


Overlap

by Regionalpancake



Category: Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Crew as Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gen, Hugh | Third of Five Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Gaslighting, Post-Series, Raffi is everything Bjayzl wasn't, Romance, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 93,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regionalpancake/pseuds/Regionalpancake
Summary: Raffi wasn’t Jay... and it might take Seven a while to get used to that.A look at Seven’s growing connection with Raffi contrasted with her past relationship with Bjayzl. Set against the eventual rescue and rehabilitation of Hugh from the Artifact.
Relationships: (Background) Agnes Jurati/Cristóbal Rios, (Background) Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres, Agnes Jurati & Raffi Musiker, Elnor & Raffi Musiker, Elnor/Hugh | Third of Five, Hugh | Third of Five & Seven of Nine, Past Bjayzl/Seven of Nine, Raffi Musiker & Cristóbal Rios, Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine, Tom Paris & Seven of Nine
Comments: 355
Kudos: 142





	1. Stop Fussing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Lintila for the diligent word-wrangling and Annamelia for listening to my constant Picard ranting with such endless patience <3
> 
> (CW: Some mild mentions of blood trickling from a cut hand, a heads up if you need one x)

“Stop fussing and let me help you!” Raffi pleaded, exasperated. 

Seven was sitting, back pressed up against the wrecked bulkhead of the crashed Borg Cube, cradling her hand.

“I can do it myself.” Seven muttered.

She placed the dermal regenerator between her teeth, the metal fingertips of her left hand pressing together the open wound on her right. Blood seeped steadily out of the cut, running down over her wrist.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Raffi said warmly, she held her arms up in surrender, “But honey, you don’t _have_ to do it by yourself.”

She plucked the dermal regenerator out of Seven’s mouth and knelt down beside her. Carefully cradling the injured hand she turned it over to get a better look at the damage. Blood dripped onto Raffi’s trouser leg, sinking into the coarse fabric, staining it. Seven tried to pull her hand away, to stop from further ruining the clothing.

“Hold still.” Raffi said, tightening her grip on Seven’s wrist, running the regenerator smoothly, steadily through the air above the open skin. Seven sat, caught, feeling her own pulse flutter under Raffi’s firm grip.

Raffi was kneeling, bent over to inspect her work. Soft curls fell forward, inches from Seven’s face. Both of them held still, as the gentle hum from the dermal regenerator filled the silence between them. The Rangers were more of a ‘patch yourself up on the move’ group, Seven mused. This stillness felt alien. 

Seven shifted uncomfortably, it had been a long time since she was this close to anyone, especially someone like Raffi...

The xB’s eyes strayed to the hand around her wrist. Her mind trailing off to being cautiously handcuffed before their Freecloud mission. Such slow, caring hands and soft words from a stranger. Raffi’s warm hand felt good against her wrist but the closeness and intimacy of the gesture was making Seven increasingly self conscious.

Raffi hummed softly, unaware of the conflict she was invoking in the xB. Her look of gentle concentration melted into a smile as she finished. She looked up, eyes meeting Seven’s for a moment.

Seven was sure she saw something flash across Raffi’s face.

The next instant it was gone and Raffi was hauling herself to her feet, before stretching down a hand to help Seven do the same.

* * *

“Stop fussing! I don’t have time for this, the club opens in thirty minutes.” Bjazyl hurried around the glitzy venue, tweaking the decorations here and there.

“Can I get a hand here, Jay?” Annika grimaced, kneeling by a crate. Her palm sliced open by a broken bottle of Romulan Ale that had been damaged, unnoticed, at the bottom of the Ferengi’s shipment. A trickle of blood dripped down her hand into the mess of glass and sickly blue liquor on the floor.

“Ani, I _would_ , you know I would, but this dress costs more than it weighs in latinum and I can’t afford to get blood on it. You understand.” It wasn’t a question.

Blood welled up from the deep gash in her palm, it was worse than she’d thought.

“If we’re opening in thirty, then I’m going to need a dermal regenerator.”

Bjayzl didn’t turn from the mirror where she was adjusting the extravagant lapels of her evening-wear “In the medkit behind the bar.”

Jay looked, seductively, at her own reflection, dark half Betazoid eyes expertly framed with smokey kohl. Her gaze followed Ani’s retreating frame in the mirror. She watched hungrily as she bent over the bar... _yum._ A moment later her eyes caught, distracted, at the reflection of some untidy jumble ruining the sleek lines of her perfect bar.

“What’s this doing here?” She turned and flicked her hand dismissively at the metallic collection of rods.

“I was passing the time,” Annika shrugged, the blue light of the regenerator knitting the skin back together. A small shard of blue glass wormed its way, stinging, out of her flesh ahead of the beam.

“Well move it! Nothing ruins the party atmosphere like Vulcan logic puzzles.” Bjazyl scooped the t’an sticks up in two hands and dumped them unceremoniously in the reclimator behind the bar.

“Hey, I was nearly done with that!”

“You’ll be too busy tonight anyway,” the brunette purred. “I need my little security drone on top form!” she booped the xB’s nose with a long manicured finger. Jay waited till Annika had sealed the last of the cut with the dermal regenerator, before snaking closer.

“And then afterwards,” she raked her hands through Ani’s hair, “We can maybe find some other way of keeping you occupied?”

* * *

Seven sat at one of La Sirena’s mess tables, contemplating her next move. She loved the simplicity of Kal-Toh.

The Vulcan game had always calmed Seven. It reminded her of good times with fine crewmen. Jay had never played of course, there was no way of manipulating the game to her favour and so the most tactical move became not to play.

The ocular implant helped. The way her old Borg systems managed visual data was beyond any organic processing. It was like seeing all the games possibilities at once, like an overlay. Each possible step laid out on top of the previous; two mirrors reflecting into infinity.

The harmony of it.

It was peaceful.

It stirred up memories of Voyager. So long ago; another quadrant, another lifetime. She could almost hear Tuvok’s calm voice. _“Not about striving for balance but about finding the seeds of order even in the midst of profound chaos."_

Balance as the end goal was never the thing, she’d tried that with the Rangers, it hadn’t worked.

The key was finding the seeds of order, little points of goodness or right, with which the chaos could then be navigated. There was certainly no way of making ‘total balance’ out of this current, unlikely situation. The ‘crew’ of La Sirena, from what she’d seen, seemed to be a heady mix of professional competence and personal disarray held together by sheer force of will.

All chaos, not much balance.

 _But_ , she mused, placing a t’an, _she was more than a little interested in perhaps being the balance for one particular chaotic individual._

“How’s that hand doing?” Raffi said, pulling up a seat, holding a bottle of bourbon. She poured for both of them. They clinked their glasses, before draining their drinks.

Seven watched as the other woman wrinkled her nose at the burn of the liquor. Wild hair flicking out into a halo as she shook her head, before settling to frame her face. Seven’s eyes strayed down the soft skin of Raffi’s neck. She paused and consciously swallowed her drink. 

_Shit_.

_How would that skin feel if she brushed her lips across it?_

Before she could talk herself out of it, she reached out and brushed Raffi’s knuckle lightly with her fingertips. Smoothing her fingers over the curve of Raffi’s thumb and across the back of her hand.

As Raffi did nothing to pull away she grew bolder, gently intertwining their fingers.

“Good as new.” Seven smiled. “Thanks to you.”

Raffi watched their hands interlace and met the blonde’s gaze with a warm, pleasantly surprised, smile.

“It’s time.” Picard’s voice rang out above them. A call to action. His tone as authoritative as ever.

As the crew collected on the bridge, Seven followed Raffi up the stairs idly wondering if she’d caught a hint of the other woman’s perfume. Seven’s stomach twisted. She remembered swearing off these kinds of personal entanglements after the mess with Jay. 

She watched as Raffi took her place at OPS, her lean figure framed against the view of Coppelius from orbit, those nimble fingers expertly navigating the controls. Pinching her leather jacket closed, Seven took her seat at tactical, readying the systems safely for warp. Once ready she paused and cast another cautious glance across at the OPS officer.

 _It’s time?_ Seven thought, _maybe the old man was right for once?_

Raffi caught her looking, grinned mischievously and _winked_.

 _All right then,_ thought Seven, eyebrows raised. _Maybe she could give this sort of thing one more chance..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tip of the hat to the amazing the_goofball for giffing the hand holding scene in such detail that I noticed Raffi shaking her head after downing that drink - which I missed when watching the episode. And Seven's little glance over to Raffi at OPS, oh my heart!
> 
> EDIT: Whoops - looks like I misattributed some gifs here (there's so many people making good stuff it's hard to keep track!) Looks like I blended these two posts together in my head:
> 
> The-goofball made [this gifset](https://the-goofball.tumblr.com/post/615763297986281472/geologick-the-goofball-seven-of-nine-i) with Seven's little quirks, both past and present. I am in awe of Jeri Ryan's acting.
> 
> And [this one](https://dahj-soji-source.tumblr.com/post/613712250046382080/chris-agnes-seven-raffi-star-trek-picard) , was actually by dahj-soji-source, which shows the end of series one with Raffi shaking her head. Oh so _cute_ and I am weak.
> 
> My apologies for the mix up! :)
> 
> This is my first go at writing something with _chapters,_ a brave new world! It feels very odd for my oneshot and drabble writing self to not have things wrapped up at this point!
> 
> New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	2. Gotcha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to beta reader Lintila for mounting a weekly resistance against my terrible spelling.
> 
> (CW: Some intentional self injury in a self-sacrificing kinda way here, nothing extremely graphically worded, but also includes a few blood mentions and a broken bone. There’s also a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment of implied Betazoid emotional manipulation, this is your heads up if you need one x)

Raffi sat at OPS, skin dappled with the strobing light of warp, she glared at the data from the crashed Artifact. Something wasn’t right. She could _feel_ it. There was an itch at the back of her mind, bothering her as she looked at this sprawling stream of numbers. Something wasn’t as it seemed. It was off. It was wrong. And she’d find it.

She sipped her coffee, it was cold, not that it mattered. With a flick of the wrist she dismissed one data log for another. There should have been more power across the Cube. _Where the hell was it?_

Sure the ‘Space Orchids’ (what a week it had been) had drained the Cube’s power. But all those Borg auxiliary generators? That power has to be going somewhere, didn’t it?

She frowned and restructured the energy processing information.

There. _Gotcha_.

A flashing trail of subroutines. All cryptic Borg gibberish but the purpose was clear as day nonetheless.

_Reroute... reroute... reroute..._

Down and down it went.

The Cube was moving energy, redirecting it from secondary and tertiary systems, moving it toward a deep corner of the lower substructure.

But why move energy to just one point? The structural integrity of the hull, what was left of it at least, couldn’t be patched up by this amount of power. It was concentrated in such a small space in the manifold too. Energy dribbling down like a heartbeat...

The streams of information before her crystallised in her mind into one cold point of realisation.

_Oh my god._

_We missed someone._

Her empty seat at OPS spun as her feet carried her clanging along La Sirena’s decks to Cris’ quarters.

“Cris?” She thumped on his door “Cris!” 

“Mmhmm?” He opened the door, bleary eyed and shirtless, in a pair of Starfleet issue sweatpants that had seen better days.

“We gotta go back.” Raffi pleaded, still out of breath.

“Course is laid in Raf, if you forgot your hairbrush, replicate another one.” He turned to slouch back to bed.

“I’ve looked at the power surges in the Cube and the pattern is consistent with an organic system rerouting energy to heal something.”

“Raffi,” Rios turned, rubbing his eyes. “what are you telling me?”

“I think JL’s Borg friend is alive down there.”

* * *

Bjayzl sat glaring at the intercepted comms data from Starfleet.

Something wasn’t right.

Was the tip off wrong? Was her intel incorrect? There was supposed to be an xB somewhere on this roster, but none to be seen and time was running out. She scanned through the data again.

Not on the roster, but why? Annika had said he was on this ship. She’d had to listen to so much _drivel_ about Voyager to get her to open up about Icheb. That xB had to be on this ship somewhere.

Bjayzl sighed and chanced a look at the non-commissioned officers list. 

_Oh for fucks sake!_ She scoffed. _Voluntary service? How pathetic!_

She read through the attached file next to Icheb’s beaming Starfleet ID portrait. Looks like he’d waived his credits for the mission. She opened the additional notes:

“Credits for this operation to be redirected to the Romulan Resettlement Fund at the personal request of Lieutenant Icheb.”

_The sap. Bleeding-heart Starfleet bullshit._ She sneered. 

_Lieutenant Icheb, Science Officer aboard the USS Coleman._ Jay’s eyes scanned greedly across the delicate Borg implant edged against the young man’s brow.

_Gotcha._

“Evening, Jay!”

Bjayzl jumped hearing the door hiss open behind her. It was Annika. _Time to turn on the charm._

“Ani!” Bjayzl purred. “My _darling,_ ”

“Business as usual?” Annika questioned, eyebrow raised, seeing the Starfleet data on screen.

“Just...looking up an old friend,” she closed the search, her long nails flicking through the holo control, dissolving it into flickering light. 

Annika had felt suspicious at the sight of Federation comms, but she felt it melting away after glancing into those beautiful, part Betazoid eyes.

She put it out of her mind.

* * *

Rios had pointed La Sirena back toward Coppelius while Soji contacted the Synths about Raffi’s theory. The consensus from them was that they’d retrieved all the xB’s from the Artifact and were attending to their needs as per their agreement with the Federation. The Synth’s had said La Sirena’s crew could search the Cube if they really wanted to but help from the Synths was not coming. The Cube was to be destroyed by Orchids in a matter of days to neutralize any remaining threat.

Hurriedly they drew together a plan, if Hugh was alive and on the Artifact they wouldn’t have long to get in and get him out. Without an exact location for the missing xB they’d be unable to beam him out, there'd be too much interference from the waveguide conduits. They’d have to send down a party to find him first. With the Cube semi active, thanks to Seven, the Automatic Regeneration Units would be attempting to rebuild broken systems. The more systems came online the more dangerous it would become.

As Rios slid La Sirena into a low orbit above Coppelius, Raffi sought out Seven. She found the xB checking the charge of the weapons in La Sirena’s modest arsenal.

“Seven, listen,” Raffi approached, nervously rubbing the back of her neck, “I haven’t had a chance to speak to you since yesterday in the mess and I,”

Seven relocked the power pack with a practiced, swift knock of her fist and turned to look at Raffi; her implant automatically processing the other woman’s vitals. Breath short, pulse quickened, core temperature 0.5 degrees elevated. Seven frowned, putting two and two together.

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable yesterday.” Seven said in a flat tone. “I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s awkward, two crew mates, I... understand.”

She held her hands behind her back to steady her quietly fraying nerves, face blank, disappointment and resignation coiling in her gut.

“No! No, the opposite actually.” 

_How the hell did Seven look so calm?_ Raffi crossed her arms trying to feel less exposed.

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink in the holosuite sometime?” _Is this how people talk? This is how people talk, right? Does dating still work like it used to?_ Raffi panicked silently. 

"I've got some good holo-programmes and I, er,” she blushed under the intense scrutiny of Seven’s gaze, “wanted to see where this goes?” She finished, voice rising questioningly.

Seven smiled, her stiff posture relaxing slightly, stomach unclenching.

“That would be...agreeable.” She smiled warmly.

Raffi’s heart fluttered as Seven stepped closer, her hand slowly lifting, poised to gently tuck a strand or Raffi’s hair behind her ear.

“Elnor, Seven, you’re with me.” Picard ordered, interrupting, marching past.

“Understood,” Seven nodded, her hand dropped away without making contact. She glanced at Raffi self consciously before straightening her already straight jacket and turning to follow the Picard to the transporter.

_Hadn’t taken the old man long to step back into his old role._ Raffi thought.

_But damn!_ She cursed her old XO. _Couldn’t he have given her just a few more seconds?_

Rios followed them to the transporter pad and handed Picard a phaser. Raffi calibrated the transporter, looking up at the three on the platform.

“I’m beaming you in as low as I can in the aft section of the Artifact.” Raffi explained, she confirmed her input with a few clean taps. “It’s the best I can do. If it _is_ Hugh down there that’s where my data says he has to be. You’ll be able to get a clearer reading from inside.”

Raffi nodded, satisfied by her sensor sweep of the area around the transporter site. “All clear on the other side, no lifeforms, no movement.”

Rios prowled nervously across the deck. “Just because it’s empty doesn’t mean it’s not _insanely_ dangerous, you should-”

“You don’t have to tell me, Rios,” Picard interrupted, “I’m keenly aware of just how dangerous a Borg Cube can be.”

“Just for the record, I think you’re crazy.”

“Perhaps,” Picard smiled thinly, “But if Hugh is still down there I can’t abandon him, not again, I owe him that much.”

Seven caught Raffi’s eye and smiled.

Raffi had put on a brave face herself enough times to recognise it on the other woman’s features. Raffi smiled back and watched as the three of them vanished into atomised, glittering nothingness.

* * *

They materialised, their eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light deep inside the Artifact. Seven felt her jaw muscles tighten. The ruined Cube was dark and quiet. Borg Cubes all felt this way, she thought, looking around at the seemingly endless corridors. Bloated, sickly green light bulged around fractal corners. The silence was thick, like the breathless quiet of a dense jungle whose branches were looming just a little too close.

Picard looked at his tricorder, confirming the direction.

“This way.” He said, his gravelly voice almost succeeding at concealing his unease.

“If we follow the path and climb down a level we should be at the source of the energy drain.”

Elnor, sword drawn, followed closely behind the Admiral. His feet barely making a sound on the metal grating of the floor.

Even with minimal systems running, the air inside the Cube was stifling. Seven could feel the sweat begin to prickle at her skin, beads running down her neck. Each breath felt cloying, a stale metallic tang hung heavy in the air. Reaching the ladder, Elnor descended first, followed by the older man. Seven, phaser up, took one final sweeping look in both directions before stepping onto the ladder.

A distant clang. Scrap metal falling.

Seven jumped. Legs bracing hard against the ladder, hands whipping the phaser round to the source of the noise.

False alarm. She hissed as a sharp pain sliced into her leg. She looked down at a jagged spike of broken bulkhead that had pushed into the path of the ladder and now snagged her calf, blood slowly darkening the fabric around the wound.

_Shit,_ she thought.

With faint metallic skittering an insect-like Automatic Regeneration Unit detached from the wall, running fast toward her wounded leg. Seven watched it leap onto the ladder before she swiftly crushed it under the butt of the phase rifle in one brutal crunch. Its vicious looking legs curling under it as it fell from the rung, bouncing off the bulkhead and falling into the nothingness below.

“What was that?” whispered Elnor.

“An ARU.” she answered. “They repair Drones on the move, patch them up during combat.”

“Don’t you want it to repair your leg?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” The Romulan continued.

“Because, Elnor,” came Picard’s voice between them, “it would _hurt.”_

They continued their descent.

* * *

Reaching the next level they followed Picard as he led them through the maze of shifting dark walls. The rerouted power was being siphoned to somewhere closeby.

The three of them froze as harrowing wail echoed off the bulkheads.

Elnor’s head whipped around at the sound.

“Hugh?” 

They set off at a sprint toward the cry.

As the group rounded the corner the floor shimmered and writhed, hundreds of crawling ARU’s infested the corridor.

A heaving mass of the skittering repair bots swarmed and shuddered in the center of the walkway, dragging along the floor.

Seven’s eyes darted to the dark streak of blood trailing from behind the mass. Her stomach froze with the sickening realisation. 

“Hugh’s in there!” She yelled to the others.

Elnor charged forward and tried to cut his way through the swarming mass, but the tritanium creatures resisted each blow, shimmering like darting fish as they deflected the flashing Romulan steel.

Picard hailed La Sirena, “Raffi, we’ve located Hugh, get us the hell out of here, NOW.”

“I can’t get a transporter lock through the, _whatever they are,_ there are too many of them!” Raffi replied, voice hazy with interference.

_“PLEASE!"_ A wet, choking scream rang out from under the swarm.

Elnor redoubled his efforts, but nothing was getting through.

_"HELP ME!"_ Hugh begged desperately, his cry trailing off into a spluttering gargle. 

Seven’s stomach turned imagining those tiny metal legs sinking into Hugh’s skin, trying to peel their way through organic tissue to reach something they could repair...

“Raffi, are you ready to transport?” Seven asked, her eyes fixed on the writhing metal swarm.

“As soon as I get a lock, you guys are _out of there._ ” The OPS officer confirmed.

“What’s your plan Seven?” Picard shouted over his shoulder.

“They want to heal some Borg tech” she grimaced in anticipation, hanging her phaser around her shoulder by it’s leather strap and flexing her augmented hand “let’s give them some.”

She tensed her left arm, feeling the familiar grind of muscle against implant-laced bone. Her fingers curled into a fist, as the tritanium marrow and synthetic sinew in her arm shuddered into life. Maximum power. She punched the bulkhead, _hard._

“Seven!” Elnor shouted.

_Snap._

She screamed. Searing hot pain flared along the fractured bone. Fireworks of pain exploded in her head. Soon though there was a distraction from the agony, as she felt a familiar sickening crawling sensation in her blood, nanoprobes rushing to the site of the injury. She stumbled to one knee, right hand clutching the broken arm to her chest.

Suddenly half the mass of the ARU’s broke off from the mound, thousands of tiny feet tapping as they swarmed towards their new target. They broke over each other in waves as they approached. Elnor waded through the machines toward Hugh’s sinking frame.

“Any...clearer?” Seven panted raggedly through the pain. Head spinning. Trying to breathe, desperately trying to stop shock from taking hold.

“Raffi, report?!” Picard yelled over the deafening noise of the metallic avalanche scurrying towards them.

“Come on, come on..” Raffi’s rising tension clear over the comms, “ _gotcha!_ ”

“Four to beam up!” Picard barked the command as they were already dematerialising.

The ARU’s, chittering, gathered futilely around the fading blue outline of Seven’s knees. They climbed over one another in an effort to reach her dematerializing arm. A second later the four were gone, a collapsing pile of a writhing metallic bodies the only thing left on the Artifact floor.

* * *

The evening was fun, and exhausting, and Bjayzl was only half awake when her personal comms beeped on the nightstand. She scrambled to silence it.

“I told you not to use this number unless it was an emergency!” She hissed, trying not to wake Annika, careful not to disturb the augmented arm wrapped lovingly around her waist.

“Ugh,” She tried to worm away without rousing her, “fucking metal, creeps me out.” 

Successfully free she turned her attention back to the communicator.

“So. What’s this emergency then?”

“Thought you’d like to celebrate.” A low reptilian voice grated over the comms.

“Go on...”

“We got him, Boss.”

“Sorry I doubted you.” Bjayzl smiled coldly. “Process him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	3. How’s She Any Different?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Lintila, who did something unspeakable in a past life and is atoning for it as beta reader to an idiot.
> 
> (CW: Some passing mentions of blood, and a description of treating a broken bone, a heads up if you need one x)

The four figures shimmered into view.

Elnor swiftly sheathed his sword and reached to gather Hugh’s twitching, ruined body into his arms. 

Hold secure, he charged towards sickbay. 

“Doctor!” He shouted as he ran.

"What is the nature of your med-"

The EMH appeared swaying on his heels in the cargo hold, quickly depolarising his matrix as Elnor barrelled toward him, passing through Emil like he was a ghost.

“What the _bloody hell_ have you all been doing?” Hands thrown out of his pockets and up into the air. He turned and rematerialised in sickbay as Elnor reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Who’s this?!”

“This is Hugh.” Elnor strode across sickbay. Reverently lowering the xB onto the biobed. “He is a scholar and a friend. Please save him, Doctor!”

Emil was already scanning the ravaged, bleeding form on his table. Spiralling round the biobed and activating systems expertly. He plucked a twitching insect-like, metal leg out of the scarred skin of Hugh face.

“Next time you’re intending on fishing people out of a Borg Cube, perhaps consider giving me some advanced notice?! Even in the 21st century they had medical pre-alert systems - ”

His rant was interrupted by a crash on the other side of the med bay. A metal tray clattered to the floor, hypos falling like bowling pins.

“Sorry.” Raffi winced at the sound as she helped Seven into a chair. She gave Emil a sheepish look as she tried to straighten the medicines up, nervous hands knocking more over.

Emil grabbed one as it rolled across the floor, he lifted it to check the integrity of the chamber before pressing it firmly against Hugh’s neck with a hiss.

“Thank you.” Hugh trailed off. His hand lifted, a gentle touch grazed across Elnor’s cheek leaving a dull red smudge. As the sedative overwhelmed him, his raw hand fell to his side and his eyes drifted closed.

“Seven,” Elnor turned his attention to the other xB “aren’t you still part Borg, could you not have told them to stop?”

Seven thought about the pain of connecting herself back to the collective only days ago.

“It’s not quite that simple.” She tried leaning her arm on the table, groaned in pain and thought better of it. “There also wasn’t enough time.”

Satisfied that he had stabilised Hugh, Emil approached her with a hypo.

She took the hypo out of Emil’s hand, glanced critically at the label and handed it back to him. “Double it.”

“But,”

“I metabolise it faster, trust me, just double it.”

Emil cocked his head, eyes flickering, scanning anyway, he seemed happy with the result. He selected a different hypo from the tray Raffi had finally managed to set to rights.

“Here.” Once again Seven swiped the hypo from his hand, checking the dosage. She pressed it to her own neck, before dropping the empty to the table with a sigh. She eyed the tray for a moment as if contemplating following it up with a second.

“Right.” The EMH blinked, edging the tray out of her reach, before turning to reviewing the scan of Hugh's vitals.

“I’ve got my work cut out for me here, so if you don’t mind Ms. Musiker?” He handed Raffi an osteogenic stimulator.

 _Shit_. She thought nervously. _Starfleet’s mandatory ‘Medical Training for XOs’ had been a long time ago._

Seven looked at Raffi’s slightly furrowed brow.

“It’s just the same as a dermal regenerator.” She gently pressed Raffi’s thumb down over the on switch with her own. “You just go over the bone slowly.”

Raffi looked unconvinced.

“Look if _Tom Paris_ can do it you definitely can!” Seven tilted back in her chair as she laughed. 

The next second she stiffened, the movement had jarred the raw and broken edges of bone against one another, her laugh petered out into a groan.

Raffi gingerly took Seven’s arm and set to work. It was hard to keep a straight face as she felt the bone shift into place under her hands. Once the bones were aligned the osteogenic stimulator could do its work. There was a faint grinding noise. The bones knitting back together, she assumed. 

After an uncomfortable few minutes Seven exhaled deeply, the last of the bone fragments reattached. She cautiously flexed her arm.

“Feels good.” She said head cocked.

“I’m afraid not.” Emil looked up from the biobed. 

“According to my readings both your nanoprobes and Hugh’s are over charged from contact with the .... energy ... of the Cube?” He chanced. He hummed, making a mental note to check with Ian later.

“I can try some electromagnetic destimulation, but I’m not sure which tool to even use.” He put his hands in his pockets thoughtfully, looking around his gleaming medical arsenal.

“I’ve got just the thing!” Raffi dashed to the bridge and back again, stairs clanging, she clutched the field replicator in one hand.

“This ought to do it right?”

* * *

The metal tray clattered. The air in the darkened room hung thick and wet with an iron tang. 

“Sorry, but I’m not spending money on fucking hyposprays! They’re hardware, Vup, don’t start treating them like people.” Bjayzl scoffed.

The hulking repliloid grinned a jagged, broken smile.

“Aren’t you sleeping with one? The ex-Borg female, I mean?”

“So what?” Jay dismissed the question. “People use holodecks for sex all the time, don’t they? How’s she any different?”

“Don’t know. I thought maybe you had a thing for those long, metal-capped fingers.” He chuckled darkly, a lecherous grin splitting his face.

“Don’t get clever with me Vup,” Bjayzl snapped. “Just because you know where my bodies are buried, doesn’t mean you’re immune to ending up as one of them.”

He squirmed under her cold stare. The tense standoff broken by two mercenaries dragging a beaten xB into the room, blood smeared across his blue science officers uniform. Vup felt his guts unclench as Bjayzl's attention was diverted.

“Finish the job, and make sure you find that cortical implant.” She tossed him an evil looking ocular extractor. “Dig it out if you have to.”

She turned, slinking towards the exit. “That thing is worth a fortune…”

* * *

Seven grimaced, she could feel the adrenaline draining out of her system and taking the last of her energy with it. Raffi cast a critical eye over her.

“Come on, you need sleep.” 

Raffi gently wrapped Seven's good arm around her shoulders and helped her walk. The other woman was heavier than expected, Raffi’s slight frame bending a little under the weight. She felt guilty enjoying the closeness, the warmth of the xB’s leg against hers as they made their way slowly out of sickbay.

Seven’s quarters were sparse. She’d arrived with nothing and seemed to have kept it that way. Raffi helped the xB to the small sofa in the corner of the room and sat down beside her, taking out the field replicator to inspect it.

 _Ok miracle stick, do your thing._ She thought, aligning her fingers with the controls carefully.

Seven pulled her shirt over her head, wincing. A dull ache flared in her newly healed arm. She pulled her feet up onto the sofa, hugging her knees against her chest.

Raffi hadn’t realised quite how much Borg was left in Seven. Her eyes scanned down Seven’s form taking in the metal spine. Hollow ports, deep, green-light tinged holes, burrowing through skin where there ought to be the gentle bumps of her vertebrae. Tritanium swept the length of her back leaving a ragged patchwork, a collection of metal and flesh. All of it edged in mottled grey skin, it’s pattern faintly shifting as nanoprobes swarmed underneath.

“Disgusting isn’t it?” Seven sighed. “Sorry about this.” 

She hung her head.

“What? No.” _Damn._ Raffi regretted taking a moment to look, she hadn’t meant to make Seven uncomfortable.

“Honey, you can’t talk about yourself like that.” Raffi’s heart ached at Seven’s view of herself. The sight of the nanoprobe-riddled skin was… disquieting, but the xB’s obvious shame was so much worse.

Raffi began running the field replicator through the air above Seven’s back, feeling the light touch of the neural atomic interface brush against her thoughts. She focused her mind on calming the nanoprobes. The faintly humming beam like a gentle machine lullaby. An impulse had Raffi reaching out to lay a soft, steadying hand on the xB’s bare shoulder. Warm and comforting.

Raffi watched as the grey writhing stain under Seven’s skin started to fade away.

Seven could feel the nanoprobes behaviour alter. The frantic, desperate swarming gradually replaced with a more familiar sensation of them sweeping, orderly and docile, through her veins.

Seven watched Raffi reflected in the darkness of the window. The other woman was deeply focused on her task. A level of care written across her face that Seven wasn’t quite used to seeing. _Maybe,_ she thought, _she could grow to like it, if it was this woman._

“Done!” Raffi looked up suddenly, catching Seven’s gaze in the reflection. 

She laughed self consciously, glancing down again. Her focus landing on a strip of metal curling round the xB’s side, a little fragment of smooth plating stretching down to disappear under the boundary of her belt.

“Unless you need me to do the others?” She offered cautiously.

Seven was already pulling her shirt over her head, taking the field replicator from Raffi’s loose grip.

“Your help is sufficient,” she sounded stilted, “I’m grateful.” 

She met Raffi’s gaze through hair still slightly damp from the dank atmosphere of the Cube.

 _God she looked tired._ Raffi thought. _Time to go._

“I better let you get some rest,” Raffi eased herself up off the small sofa.

Seven walked her to the door, movement easier than earlier.

“Well, goodnight.” Raffi smiled, playfully saluting.

Before Raffi could walk away Seven reached out and took her hand, pulling her gently round to face her. The xB rested casually against the door frame.

Slowly Seven leant forward and kissed the other woman softly on the cheek, lingering for just a moment even after breaking away. Taking in the warmth of this new closeness and Raffi’s soft scent.

Raffi tried and failed to suppress a tiny sigh.

“Thank you again, Raffi.” Seven smiled as she stepped back. “Goodnight.” 

The xB turned back into her quarters, the door hissed closed behind her.

Raffi stood still, holding a disbelieving hand to her cheek.

She beamed.

* * *

Raffi strolled into the bridge, humming cheerfully.

Cris looked up from the conn. “You did good today, Raf.”

“Sorry?” She playfully put a hand to her ear. “What was that, Cris?” 

“You heard me, _cabrón_.” He lit his cigar. “That xB owes you one.”

“Oh it’s nothing, she just needed help with her implants.”

“Not Seven!” He laughed. “Old blue eyes down in sickbay. Y’know, Hugh? The needle you single handedly found in the quadrant's most dangerous haystack?”

Cris took a heavy drag on his cigar, sighing out the day's tension along with the smoke.

“Kid looks like he came out of a meat grinder…”

“You know he's older than you, right?”

“Raf, one of the perks of being Captain is being able to call whoever I want, whatever I want.” He grinned.

“You haven’t called JL ‘kid’ yet?”

“Maybe I should start?” Rios mused. “He _was_ born yesterday.”

They laughed.

Cris settled deeper in the captain's chair.

“So. Why does Seven owe you then?”

“What?”

“You said ‘she’ when I said ‘xB’. Explain yourself Lieutenant Commander.”

“Oh we are _not_ having Cris’ personal Starfleet Role Play Hour.” Raffi spun in her chair and started the evening's sensor sweeps.

“You’re just sore because I outranked you.”

“Mmhmm, _outranked_ Cris. Past tense.” She spun back around. “Hey remember the time when you told the Ferengis you were still a Commander and-“

He raised an eyebrow. “I can tell when you're working me y’know, Raf.”

“Huh?”

“You can Starfleet Intel your way round a lot of people Musiker, but I _know you,"_ he said leaning forward.

She sighed with resignation as Cris continued.

“I said ‘the xB owes you one’, and _you_ thought I meant our resident vigilante and _not_ the man you literally just saved. Suspicious. Then I tried to talk about Seven and you try to distract me with the Ferenginar incident, which was still your fault by the way. More suspicious. Conclusion?” He paused dramatically. “I’ve no idea actually, care to enlighten me?”

Raffi pinched the bridge of her nose reviewing her options. _Tell him now or tell him later? At least now there was no one around..._

“I asked Seven out for drinks.”

“And why the hell am I not invited?! Way to make a guy feel wanted!”

“Cris. I asked Seven out. Out. For drinks.”

Rios’ eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face.

“Raffi you _dog!”_ He laughed “I didn’t think you had it in you!”

Cris grinned. “Computer, activate EHH.”

“No!”

“How can I help Captain?” Mr. Hospitality flickered into view, clutching his folio. 

“Get Raffi here a party hat, please!”

The EHH clicked his fingers, summoning a silver holographic party hat to his hand. He passed it to the OPS officer. “There you go, Raffi.” He smiled warmly.

“And a party horn for myself please.”

“Ok?” Mr. Hospitality acquiesced, confused, offering a holographic paper and plastic tube to the Captain. 

“I hate you Cris, do you know that?” Raffi glared.

Rios, replaced his cigar with the party horn and blew. A pathetic, squeaking honk blared across the bridge.

“Can I ask what we are celebrating?” The EHH drawled, scanning through his folio for an event he’d missed.

Cris tapped his finger on the screen, “Make a note, star date - today, Raffi Musiker’s dry spell comes to an end!”

The EHH started typing.

“Don’t actually!” Raffi protested.

Rios laughed, “Raffi, it’s not everyday your tragic ten years of dateless-ness comes to an end!”

“Oh come on!” She blushed, muttering under her breath, “It’s more like five...”

“I was joking, Raffi! Five years? Seriously? _Santa mierda!_ No wonder you’re grouchy!”

“If there’s nothing else, Captain?” Mr Hospitality ventured.

“You’re good, mission accomplished.” Rios waved dismissively.

The EHH nodded deeply and vanished.

Cris sighed, still chuckling. “So come on then. How’s she any different?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, five years is a pretty long time for one thing, but also I haven’t seen you _giddy_ before.”

“That’s such a lie!” Raffi rolled her eyes. “You've known me for years.”

“Not like this! You arrived _humming_. So, what is it about her?”

_How’s she any different?_ Raffi thought to herself. _Well Seven’s just… Just what? Brave. Noble. Talented. Gorgeous. Exciting. Gorgeous. Mysterious. Gorgeous. Ok, so gorgeous then._

_But also… sweet?_

_And vulnerable and damaged and kind._

Raffi settled on a shrug and sighed, smiling at her train of thought “I guess it’s just…I’ve never met anyone quite like Seven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cris' swearing from:  
> https://www.wildjunket.com/top-10-spanish-swear-words/  
> If you're a native Spanish speaker and I goofed please let me know, I'm happy to correct it :)
> 
> Thanks for reading :) New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	4. Visiting Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to beta reader Lintila, who kindly fixes my Freudian slips and only _occasionally_ laughs at them.
> 
> (CW: A brief suggestion of Bjayzl using some potentially-Betazoid abilities to manipulate Annika’s emotions, as well as a couple of blood/fracture mentions, a heads up if you need one x)

Traffic noise and distant, upbeat music drifted through the open window of Bjayzl’s Freecloud apartment from the busy street far below. 

“Well, if I’m having surgery tomorrow, I should really call it a night.” Annika sighed, draining the last of her wine as she excused herself from the table.

Outside an aircar horn blared frantically, followed by a heavy crunch. The sounds of an argument filtering up on the hot, city updraft.

Bjayzl stood, a hand sliding around Annika’s waist, another softly cupping her cheek. She glanced at the xB's implant, watched the changing colours of the gaudy holo-ad across the street catch along the edges of the curved metal. Ani smiled and leaned into Jay's touch, her brow arching gently.

“I know, you must be so nervous Ani.” Jay purred, looking deeply into her eyes.

_Annika hadn’t been nervous, although now Jay mentioned it, she’d never been very fond of hospitals._ Her stomach clenched.

“But I really do think it’s for the best. Medical technology has come a long way since you were on Voyager and you can’t expect some simple EMH to have done the most thorough job possible - it’s just a basic programme after all.”

Bjayzl drew both hands along the xB’s sides, suppressing a rising feeling of revulsion as her fingers drifted over hard tritanium under Ani’s soft shirt. 

Jay smiled sweetly.

“It’ll be nice to be able to feel more of the _real_ you too.” She dipped her head, kissing along Annika’s collar bone, her breath hot against her skin.

Ani smiled and sighed, winding her arms around Bjayzl’s shoulders. _Jay always found a way to make her feel safe._

“Don’t stay up too late.” Ani spoke into the crook of Jay’s shoulder. “You’re covering for me over at the new settlement, remember? Make sure you remember take them the Ranger’s spare replicator this time.” 

She softly kissed Jay goodnight and headed to bed.

The brunette listened as Ani’s foot steps faded, waiting until she heard the door to their bedroom close before pulling out her personal holoscreen emitter and expertly keying in a familiar frequency.

“Vup,” she said as the reptiloid’s face flickered into view above her palm, “get me the subspace frequency for Doctor Crell, I need him to send over those release waivers for medical waste. We can’t have our money going out the reclimator now can we?”

“They’re not going to be able to cut much out you know boss. Not without killing her.”

“Unlike you, my scaly friend, I’m not an idiot.” Jay sneered. “We just need enough Borg fragments to sell to tide us over this trifling liquidity issue, until the Brunali shipment comes in.”

She brought up a star chart overlay on her palm holo. The orange outline of a ship traced a quiet blinking path along the far edge of the Hypatia system, avoiding the busy space lanes, headed for Vergessen.

“If Annika’s right, then the little do-gooder was assimilated as a child. The product we will get out of him will be _outstanding.”_

She closed the map with a happy sigh.

“Exciting times Vup, onwards and upwards. This’ll be your most complicated one yet - until we get around to Ani of course.”

“I’ll have my work cut out for me.” Vup paused, expectantly. “Cut. Cut, boss? Cut out?”

“Yes, Vup, very good. Perhaps consider enquiring about Quark’s comedy evenings?”

She sneered at the thought of the disgusting little Ferengi. Their black market dealings overlapped far too often for her liking. Although he had all the makings of a true businessman, Quark always seemed to be putting people in front of profit. His time spent with those jumped up Starfleet busy-bodies had made him soft. Quark would own half the space port by now, if he’d just use forced labour like the rest of the city. Nothing sadder than a poor and _decent_ Ferengi. 

_Unlike Quark,_ Bjayzl thought, _her pockets were about to be very well lined with latinum indeed._

“We won’t be worrying about the books for a while after this one, Vup.”

* * *

“Hugh, you awake? It’s visiting hour!”

Raffi appeared at the door to sickbay holding a large bundle in one hand and a tiny potted plant in the other.

Hugh stirred, he’d been in and out of sleep for the best part of the day, occasionally chatting with the ship’s EMH. 

“It doesn’t count if you come back every few hours.” The xB smiled kindly.

“Huh? I thought you were asleep before?” Raffi questioned, walking over to Hugh’s bed and placing the little plant on a console near him. 

“The good Doctor here told me you kept checking in.” Hugh nodded in the direction of the EMH.

“Every two hours. Like clockwork.” Emil confirmed, not looking up from his holoscreen.

“Well,” Raffi flustered, feeling caught out, “what else am I going to do to pass the time? I might end up having a conversation with JL and then we’re all in trouble… And don’t even get me started on Nietzche’s little book club up there on the bridge.”

Emil turned his head to hide his smirk.

The OPS officer peaked out of the door to sickbay and up at the back of the captain’s chair. Agnes was curled up on Cris’ lap, her legs hanging lazily over the arm on one side. She couldn’t hear their conversation but could just about make out the delicate silhouette of the cyberneticist’s hand playing with Rios’ hair.

“If I’d known existentialism had _that_ effect…”

She turned away when it looked like they might kiss. 

_Good for Cris_ , she thought.

“OK, so, pillow upgrade!” She said, turning back to Hugh. 

She unwrapped the large bundle she’d been holding. 

“I replicated two options since I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer. This is Borian silk, in an attractive charcoal black - I noticed you’ve got a kinda monochrome thing going on.” She gestured loosely at his uniform.

“Or this one… this is cotton and has cartoon dinosaurs on it.” 

Hugh laughed, immediately wincing at the pain, and nodded at the dinosaurs.

“I knew I liked you.” She smiled, gently eased his head forward and tucked the colourful pillow behind his shoulders.

She flopped herself down in the chair at his bedside, evidently settling for a proper visit now the patient was fully awake.

“It's Raffi, isn’t it?” Hugh gave her a politely quizzical look.

“That’s right, honey. How did you know? I don’t remember being introduced.”

“Elnor spoke about you when we were on the Artifact."

“Oh? I wouldn’t believe everything that kid says.”

“He said you were Kal’Vreen.”

“My Romulan’s a little rusty, Hugh, that better not be an insult.” She teased, hand on her hip.

Hugh settled himself into his new pillow. It had that ‘just-replicated’ crispness, and smelt ever so slightly of something faintly floral and soothing. Must be something Raffi added to the specs before replicating. 

_Elnor was right_ , he thought, _she is sweet._

“The Kal’Vreen are beings in Romulan mythology, they fought at the beginning of the world to bring the sky to order.“ He coughed, wincing. “They also do good deeds, for broken people.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, Hugh.” Raffi trailed off, blushing.

“Elnor said you look out for everyone around here, a real guardian.”

Raffi smiled warmly, and made a mental note to get the kid an ice-cream or something. 

“What? So Elnor’s going round calling me an angel?” 

“I think that’s roughly the closest _Terran_ comparison, yes.” Hugh smiled with his twin coloured eyes. “That’s if angels had better tactical sense and many, _many_ more secrets. The Kal’Vreen are Romulan after all.”

“Speaking of which,” Emil interrupted, “It appears you are about to have another visitor.”

He stood to intercept Elnor, who had just burst through the sickbay entrance at a run.

“Is he awake?!” Elnor looked toward the biobed, catching the xB’s eye. 

“Hugh!” Elnor pushed past a blustering Emil and threw his arms around the injured xB.

“Elnor, give him some space!” Raffi winced.

Emil straightened his long coat, drawing himself up into a professional, lecturing stance. 

“I’m going to have to agree, he’s been through a lot-“

“No, Doctor, it's OK.” Hugh interrupted, wrapping his tired arms around the Romulan. “I didn’t think we’d meet again after what happened.” 

The words were spoken softly into the crook of Elnor’s neck.

“I'm so happy to see you alive, Hugh.”

“I’m pretty pleased about it too!” The xB laughed into the embrace.

Raffi could swear she saw Hugh’s eyes flutter closed, tension draining from him as he pressed his face fondly into the Romulan’s long hair.

_Huh. How about that?_ She thought, a smile creeping onto her face.

“I’ll let you have your turn, honey.” Raffi said getting up.

Elnor wasted no time in claiming her still warm chair. He reached into a pocket of his long robe and drew out a red leather journal.

“I brought some drawings to show you.” He chimed, brimming with enthusiasm. “I have found out about _cats.”_

Raffi patted Hugh warmly on the ankle. 

“Enjoy the lecture!” She laughed.

“I don’t know if the Collective knows about cats? But…”

* * *

“It’s visiting hour!” The human sized holo bunny chimed, spinning around the empty hospital ward, sprinkling holographic flower petals as it went. The petals floated down, disappearing as they landed.

Annika tried to sit up in the bio bed and stopped short as the pain from her sides flared to a sharp agony. The biobed dispassionately responded with an increase in the level of pain meds. Ani wasn’t sure what sort, she only knew it didn’t do much to help. This was one of the most expensive hospitals on Freecloud, she would’ve thought they had better pain relief. She glanced around, taking in the clean clinical area, kitted out with top of the range medical equipment. The rest of the beds in the bay stood empty. An uneasy feeling churned inside her. She thought of the desperate need for medical treatment she saw while on Fenris, the makeshift medical wards with people queuing for a space.

_How had Bjayzl had afforded this?_

A nurse walked in briskly, he wordlessly checked the monitor next to her bed and bustled off.

Seven gingerly touched the dressings that wrapped around her entire middle, they held in place a blinking string of tissue restorators. The devices interfaced with the rest of the biobeds support systems, churning out information on the progress of her healing.

The fluffy hologram finished it’s hopping circuit of the room and came to a stop next to Annika’s bed. For such a swanky hospital they should invest in a better holomatrix- this thing’s eyes seem to focus just past where they should, it was creepy. 

“We understand the psychological benefits seeing the people, or other life forms you care for, has on your healing. Our service strives to support that connection.” The bunny addressed the wall ever so slightly to the left of Ani’s gaze.

The holo held up its wicker basket, inside the base flickered into a display screen. Jay’s face swam into view. Voice distant.

“Sorry. Had to meet a contact. Long story. Ranger stuff, you understand. Call me when you’re out.”

Her face was already turning away from the recorder as she signed off.

The bunny sighed cartoonishly. “What a beautiful and thoughtful message from _your_ loved one and/or colleague! To save the message to your personal data bank, say ‘one’! To return a message, say-“

“Deactivate.”

The bunny fizzed pathetically out of existence.

Annika rolled over, breath catching in her chest as the hospital sheets snagged against the restorators, sending sparks of pain across her skin.

She felt a hot lump in her throat, her eyes stinging.

_No one knew she was here. No one except Jay. None of her old Voyager crew even knew she was on Freecloud, she’d lost touch with everyone over the years. Everyone except Icheb of course, and that was only because the kid was so damned organised that he'd book in calls weeks ahead._

_What would Icheb even think of her? In a private hospital trying to get rid of more of her Borg implants. For primarily cosmetic reasons. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to tell him._

A pair of footsteps approached the room, passing by the door and continuing down the sparkling corridor, disappearing into the distance.

She tried to curl her knees to her chest for comfort but a sharp tearing pain stopped her, she hoped she hadn’t ripped anything.

She wanted someone here with her. _Anyone._ For the first time in years she allowed her thoughts to wander to her parents. 

Her eyes stung.

She’d never felt so alone. 

A little blood blossomed at the wrappings as her stomach muscles strained from trying not to cry. Something had torn after all. 

It was the final straw.

Annika sobbed.

* * *

“Guess who?” Raffi said to the console at the side of the door to Seven’s quarters.

“Huh?” A sleepy sounding voice replied. A pause. “Come in.”

The door hissed open.

“It’s visiting hour! I come bearing gifts.” She held up the bottle of bourbon in one hand and glasses in the other, something bulky and colourful folded under her arm.

Seven tried to get up but everything went sideways very quickly and she dropped herself back in her seat with a sigh.

“Don’t get up!” Raffi scolded, crossing the room.

Seven instead shifted over to make room on the sofa where she had spent the last few hours napping. Whatever had happened to her nanoprobes yesterday had really taken it out of her. Even now she felt tired, drained.

Raffi put the bourbon and glasses down on the low coffee table and took the bundle out from under her arm before taking a seat.

“I noticed you didn’t have anything personal in your quarters.” She said smoothing out the carefully folded blanket against her thigh before passing it to Seven. 

“I was replicating pillows for Hugh and...” she trailed off as Seven took the gift.

The xBs hands smoothed over the patchwork fabric of the blanket. The geometric pattern tessellated in stars, diamonds and pinwheels of different colours. 

Raffi fidgeted, feeling increasingly uncertain in the silence. Hugh was certainly the easier patient to visit. 

“Sorry, I know it doesn’t exactly fit with the aesthetic.”

Seven looked up finally, 

“It’s...” she trailed off, her brain filtering through reams of information on gift giving across cultures. Replicated or not, she’d never been given something like this before. “Thank you.” 

Raffi’s expression lifted and she poured them both drinks.

“Did you know Elnor’s been going round calling me a Romulan angel? The cheek!” She smiled, unable to hide her pride.

“Well, it’s not _that_ inaccurate.” Seven smiled wryly.

_Smooth_ , Raffi thought, trying desperately not to blush. _She felt like she was at the academy again, flirting after Operations class._

“Anyway,” she continued, hopelessly losing the battle against the blush and deciding to fight the campaign tactically on distraction grounds instead, “I should get him a thank you gift, what do you reckon? Do Qowat Milat like ice cream?”

Seven picked up her glass and smiled at the thought of the earnest young man.

“I think anything an eight year old might like would go down well. A Holopet maybe?” 

“Oh, Cris would _hate_ that.” Raffi smirked, “I’ll do it tomorrow! He was rambling about cats...” 

Seven drained her drink. Putting the glass down and flexing her arm with obvious discomfort.

Raffi took a more cautious sip.

“When you were on the Cube, did you know it was going to snap, the bone I mean?”

“Yes.” Said Seven matter of factly.

Raffi shuddered at the thought of it. _What sort of mindset did you have to put yourself in to do that?_ She felt sick at the idea of fragmenting bone, fragile pieces held together with ribbons of flesh.

“You saved his life you know?” Raffi said, glass clinking against the table as she set it down. “There was no way that transporter lock was gonna initialise.” 

She softly covered Seven’s wrist with her hand, before she paused, a questioning expression flashed across her face.

“It’s healed right?” Raffi trailed her fingertips lightly along Seven’s wrist, admiring the graceful metal curved across it.

“It’s...healing. The osteogenic regenerator forces the bone to knit but the tissue around is still new, inflamed. It will regenerate.”

Raffi intertwined their fingers, an echo of their previous touch. This time she drew Seven’s hand toward her face, pausing, warm breath gentle across Seven’s skin. Raffi looked up, eyes connecting with Seven’s, a question in her gaze. Reading Seven’s steady, gentle expression as permission as she tenderly kissed the inside of the other woman’s wrist. Soft skin and smooth tritanium against her lips. Lingering there softly for a moment, enjoying the intimacy.

“Doesn’t hurt, does it?” She asked.

Seven smiled and shook her head. “On the contrary, it's..." she paused as Raffi resumed her gentle work, _“enjoyable.”_

Raffi let her kisses wander leisurely down the inside of the other woman’s arm.

She glanced up, hoping to catch Seven’s eye for permission to perhaps take this dance a little further, but the xB eyes were hooded with tiredness. Her gaze unfocused as she resisted sleep, hair softly falling in front of her face.

“I should go, it’s late,” Raffi tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Seven’s ear, “you’re tired.” 

“Just five more minutes?” Seven murmured, pulling her feet up onto the sofa and curling up against Raffi’s side.

Raffi's heart jumped. 

“Here.” She smiled at this newfound closeness and shifted a little, leaning back so Seven could use her slight chest as a pillow.

_She should say something,_ Seven mused sleepily. Her thoughts already seemed harder to keep a hold of. _She should say goodnight and see Raffi out. But it was so comfortable lying here and her face nuzzled against Raffi’s chest felt so right._ For the first time in years she allowed herself to simply enjoy another body, warm and close against her own. One that didn’t come with the expectations of something more, as it so often had on Fenris.

“Just five more…”

“Sure, honey.” Raffi said, whispering her words carefully like they might break the quiet of the room. Raffi desperately hoped Seven wouldn’t notice her heart racing at their closeness.

Seven had noticed the quick thrum against her cheek, She could feel her own pulse, a distant, dull ache in the still healing tissues of her arm. But the more insistent tempo came from the other woman.

Even at the edge of sleep Seven was never one to turn down an experiment, not when the perfect conditions so deliciously presented themself. She laid her augmented hand softly across Raffi’s stomach, idly stroking back and forth with a gentle thumb.

Raffi’s heart quickened.

_Hypothesis confirmed,_ thought Seven, smiling sleepily into the fabric of Raffi’s shirt.

“Know any songs?” She chanced.

_Oh hell._ Raffi’s brain spiralled. _As if she wasn’t mortified enough at her heart's utter and deeply treasonous refusal to play it cool. Seven wanted her to sing?! She could barely remember how words worked, never mind lyrics. She clutched at upbeat, saccharine songs from the subspace radio stations. That wouldn’t do. Cris’ Klingon opera? Definitely not._

_The lullaby she sang when Gabe was little, maybe that would do?_

With a shiver that was more nerves than cold, Raffi pulled the patchwork throw over them. Before singing tentatively. 

Tenderly.

Her breath soft against Seven’s hair.

_"You are my sunshine,”_

Seven sighed, contentedly. Raffi continued, a little braver.

_“My only sunshine,”_

Seven was only half aware of the distantly familiar song as deep comfort washed over her from the warmth of Raffi and the blanket. Her eyes felt heavy.

_“You make me happy,”_

She hadn’t felt this… _safe_ in a long time. 

_“When skies are grey,”_

Raffi’s arm curled around her. Without agenda. Without contract.

_“You’ll never know dear,”_

A little smile edged at the corner of her lips as she felt Raffi’s fingers sink into her hair.

_"How much I love you,”_

The gentle touch to the back of her neck, beckoning her to sleep.

_"Please don’t take my sunshine away.”_

Seven slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to small_flower and their fic _Karaoke Night (You are My Sunshine)_ for getting that song stuck firmly in my brain. Oh, the Voyager feels!
> 
> If you’re interested in a bonus serving of pain: the “Doctor Crell” that Bjayzl was liaising with to reclaim Annika’s medical waste was Dr. Crell Moset. The disgraced Cardassian exobiologist. Moset was responsible for the death of Kira Nerys' mother while he was conducting experiments on Bajor, and was the same doctor whose research B'Elanna tried to stop the EMH using on Voyager due to it coming from unethical practices. 
> 
> Moset practiced medicine at around the right time period for the flashback. I figured given his history with using the Occupation of Bajor to further his unethical medical experiments, that he’d be quite keen on moving his work to the former Neutral Zone now the Federation aren’t keeping an eye on things anymore. 
> 
> I imagine he’s enjoying working in a nice hospital with minimal regulation on Freecloud, with a sweet corner office and occasional thrilling dealings with Borg hunters - not a bad life for a Cardassian who should have been convicted as a war criminal 17 years earlier!
> 
> I took some liberties with Romulan mythology with the 'Kal’Vreen' so I thought I should have a canon Doctor...Oh, the rabbit holes you fall down when on MemoryAlpha when just trying to pick a suitably shady character for a throw away line!
> 
> Thanks for reading :) New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	5. What Do You Think You’re Doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to beta reader Lintila, keeper of the deep secrets of the apostrophes - one day I will learn their mysterious ways.
> 
> (CW: Heavily implied here that Bjayzl is using some level of Betazoid mind/emotion control on Annika to manipulate her into staying with Jay despite her poor behaviour. Although it’s not really dealt with in any detail here, I think that kind of manipulation and gaslighting puts their relationship in an area of ‘dubious consent’. This is a heads up for this chapter x).

Raffi rubbed her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, idly wondering why the bulkheads had moved before realising this _wasn’t_ her quarters. Not only was this not her quarters, it was Seven’s and it’s usual occupant was curled close against Raffi’s side on the cramped sofa. The xB’s breath, soft and steady underneath a tangle of blonde hair. Raffi didn’t even care that sleeping on a sofa had made her back feel like it was made of Klingon pain sticks. She was on a sofa, her arm loosely draped around _Seven_.

_Holy shit._

She looked down. She was fully dressed except for her boots and a sock that had worked its way off in her sleep. The patchwork gift from yesterday was bunched around their legs, the material soft against her bare foot.

They had shifted during the night, slouching further down into the sofa cushions, legs comfortably entwined. Seven's head nestled against her chest, face turned up to Raffi's, blonde hair unfortunately obscuring the view.

Raffi chanced stroking Seven’s hair out of her face. The xB shifted slightly and frowned at the sensation. The implant on her brow moved just a fraction before settling back into a peaceful expression. 

_So, this, THIS, is allowed now?_ Raffi thought, feeling almost giddy. _Just casually lying here with the quadrant's most infamous Ranger curled in your arms? Seven. Seven of Nine! The Ex-Borg Fenris Ranger, from the Delta Quadrant._

The same infamous vigilante hero who was currently snoring gently in Raffi’s arms.

Raffi sighed deeply and took in the sight of Seven sleeping. 

That look of calmness. Of peace. She’d never seen that expression on those features before. God she was beautiful. _Not exactly news there, Raffi,_ she thought to herself, but this sort of beauty was different. Not the usual bombshell Seven; dashing, dangerous, deadly. Not the quirked eyebrow, the sarcasm and the swagger. This was… softer somehow.

Seven sighed in her sleep, her lips gently parted.

_Those lips._

_God, she wanted to kiss her._

They’d only danced around the edges of anything so far, but being so tantalisingly close was certainly… distracting. 

Raffi stroked Seven’s cheek softly with the back of her knuckles. The xB stirred, eyes still closed but stretching like a cat and then coiling herself more deliberately against Raffi's angular frame.

“Good morning.” she mumbled.

“Certainly is.” Raffi smiled.

Seven listened to the distant, insistent thud of Raffi’s heart in her chest.

She could think of a few ways she could change _that_ tempo.

 _However a hypothesis is only proven if the results are reliably repeatable_ , Seven thought. _That’s just good science._

The xB palmed Raffi’s stomach, black tank top sliding smoothly under her touch. She smiled at the expected spike in the other woman’s heart rate and even more so at the unexpected _whimper._

 _Maybe it’s been a while?_ Thought Seven.

She looked up, not too surprised to see Raffi already looking down at her. 

“I thought you had Starfleet Intelligence training?” The xB smirked, “60 beats per minute or bust?”

“I do!” The OPS officer protested. “Top of my class too, I’ll have you know!” 

Raffi’s laugh melted into a moan as Seven traced a smooth metal thumb expertly along the boundary of her shirt, just barely glancing along a patch of exposed skin by her belt. She tilted her head back, luxuriating at the feeling of the caress.

“Admittedly they didn’t test us under quite _these_ conditions...” 

_If Seven didn’t kiss her soon,_ Raffi thought, _she was going to have to take matters into her own hands, this was getting ridiculo-_

Raffi’s train of thought derailed spectacularly as she glanced back down catching Seven’s gaze, the xB’s eyes’ heavy with intent as she bit her lip.

_Who even does that really?! There was no way that wasn’t intentional. A calculated move by someone playing the game three turns ahead and enjoying watching their partner try to catch up. Seven was clearly enjoying this._

_Raffi couldn’t decide if knowing that she was being toyed with made it better or worse..._

Seven’s hand eased ever so slightly under the hem of Raffi’s tank top. The skin of the OPS officer’s neck prickled as warm fingers and metal brushed confidently round her waist.

 _Better_ , Raffi nodded, enthusiastically agreeing with her own conclusion, _it made it better._

Seven had been cautious about kissing Raffi yesterday, she hadn’t wanted to seem too forward. She hadn’t wanted to push her luck, but the hungry look in the other woman’s gaze now was invitation enough. 

Seven pushed herself up the sofa, draping her body over the other woman’s, drinking in the feeling of pressing herself against Raffi’s lean frame. Seven closed the distance between them with a kiss. The OPS officer smiled, her hand easing around the xB’s back, drawing her closer still. Cautious, gentle over the implants. She was delighted as Seven responded with a soft moan, felt as if it was Raffi’s own, close against her lips.

They were interrupted by an almost cartoonish gurgling. Raffi’s stomach announcing it was time for breakfast. Seven laughed, breaking their kiss. 

“Sorry, ignore that.” Raffi dismissed the noise with a wave.

Seven smiled, rather than returning to the kiss, she softly ran her lips along the other woman’s jaw, warm breath tickling her skin. Trailing kisses down her neck as she drew an inquisitive hand lazily upwards from Raffi’s waist-

Raffi’s stomach rumbled again.

 _Well ‘fuck you’ too stomach!_ Raffi cursed. _We are clearly not on the same team here._

“Breakfast then?” Seven questioned, eyebrows raised and smiling. She started to stand up.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Raffi laughed, pulling Seven back by a belt loop. “You’re recovering from an injury, that means breakfast in bed in Raffi’s books. It doesn’t count as breakfast in bed if you get up.”

Seven gestured, dryly deadpan, at the sofa.

“Fine, it doesn’t count as ‘breakfast on sofa’ if you get up.” Raffi playfully swatted the air as she walked over to the small replicator.

“Computer, a stack of pancakes with maple syrup.”

Nothing happened. Raffi frowned. “Computer, activate EHH.”

Nothing.

“Looks like room service is cancelled.” She quipped. “I’ll go down to the mess and bring something back. Requests?”

“Surprise me.” Seven smiled. “So long as it comes with coffee.”

Raffi walked toward the door before doing a quick about turn to pick up her missing sock. She hopped on one leg, pulling it on.

Seven laughed.

In a wild fit of confidence, Raffi bent down and caught Seven mid laugh with another kiss. Languid and lingering. 

Her heart sang.

Her stomach grumbled.

Seven laughed, “Go! Before you start eating anything!”

 _I mean…_ Raffi was grateful she was turning away as she blushed _wildly_ at that particular thought.

* * *

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bjayzl yelled in surprise at Annika’s shadow in the opening door. 

She hurriedly pulled the bedsheets over her bare skin. The young Orion woman draped around Jay had different ideas, gracefully raising a knee and playing coyly with her long necklace, looking Ani up and down. “Wanna join the party, gorgeous?”

“What?” Annika stumbled over her words “What am _I_ doing? What the hell are _you_ doing?”

“Whatever you got the latinum for, sweetheart.” The Orion interrupted with a smile.

“Can you not, Haltha?!” Bjayzl spat angrily.

“Oh excellent, first name terms with prostitutes now are we?!” Ani said, incredulous, her chest tightening with anger.

“You were out of town, Ani,” Bjayzl pushed the Orion’s hand off her bare shoulder.

“For three days!”

“You did say four days.”

“So this is _my_ fault?”

“Look, Annika, it’s not my fault if I just want to be with someone normal occasionally?” She reached over to the bedside cabinet and picked up the small metal holoscreen emitter, clicking it into life.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” The xB dropped the duffel bag from her shoulder.

“You know,” Jay said, not looking up from the personal holoscreen in her palm as she transferred funds for ‘Hospitality Services.’ “Not Ex-Borg. It’s nice to not snag my jewellery against some awful metal parts sometimes. Like I said: _Normal_.”

Haltha glanced down as her anklet flashed green, the payment accepted. “Sheesh, that’s kinda messed up, Ms. B,” the Orion said, sliding off the bed and pulling on her overcoat. 

Jay deactivated the holoscreen and tossed it back under the bedside lamp. 

“If I wanted your opinion, Haltha, I’d pay for it.” She said dryly.

The petite, young woman picked up her heels from the rug in the center of the room and slunk to the door.

“Sorry sweetie,” she said looking up at Annika, a genuine look of apology across her flushed green cheeks, “it’s just business, y’know?” 

She tried to lay a hand on Ani’s arm, but the xB flinched away. 

Haltha shrugged and looked back over her shoulder.

“You’ve got my frequency, Jay. Call me direct next time, ok? Mister Brunt takes 60% if you go through him.”

“Noted.”

“I am, in fact, still here.” Annika laughed humourlessly, incredulous, as Haltha left.

“Hmm, yes.” Bjayzl considered, picking a cream silk dressing gown off the floor and sliding it on, crossing barefoot across the room. “Come in and close the door.”

Annika did so, warily. Jay drew closer, reaching out to the xB’s face.

“Don’t touch me.” Annika snapped. Angry at the waiver breaking into her voice. She took a step back to avoid Bjayzl’s hand.

“Look, Ani-” Jay purred.

“Don’t ‘Look, Ani’ me! I came home early for you, Jay.” Shoulders sagging as she sighed, running a metal laced hand through her hair.

“I told Icheb I’ll catch him next time the Coleman is in dock, instead. It’s going to be months now till I see him. He was going to introduce me to his fiance. But I remembered what you’d said about me going away for too long and I thought I’d surprise you. I just...I didn’t think that you’d do this again, not after last time.” She winced at the memory. 

Ani slid down the door frame to the rough carpet, her back pressed against the wall. The exhaustion of the trip clawing at her muscles, her mind still painfully reeling from Jay, from-

 _I’m an idiot,_ she thought _Jay was never going to change._

“I messed up,” Jay began, kneeling down next to her, “you gave me another chance and I failed.”

Ani nodded wordlessly, tears stinging at her eyes. She blinked them back, her jaw muscles jumping as she desperately tried not to cry.

Jay continued. Her voice low, her words pressing like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm. 

“But it _is_ nice sometimes to remember what it’s like to be with someone who’s not,” her eyes darted to Annika’s augmented hand, “broken.”

The xB grimaced as she felt a tear roll silently over the edge of her implant, dripping down to the rumpled folds of the Ranger’s worn jacket.

Bjayzl put a soft hand under Ani’s chin, gently tilting her face towards her. 

“And you wouldn’t hold that against me would you? You’re too _kind_ for that.” Her dark eyes held Annika’s tear stained gaze. 

“But it won’t always be like this, ok? The hospitals are getting better all the time at removing Borg implants. They’ll get there eventually. You’ve just got to give them time. You’ve just got to give me time too, ok Annika?”

Ani felt faint, her mind clouded. Her eyes swam with tears as she weakly held Bjayzl’s gaze. 

_What was that expression? Love? Concern? Something else?_

“Are we ok, Annika?” Jay repeated, softly tucking a strand of blonde hair behind Ani’s ear. “Can you give me one more chance?”

 _Jay was right,_ Ani thought, _it’s my fault really. If I wasn’t so, so…_ She curled her augmented hand into a fist. _So fucking broken, I’d be easier to love._

“Ok,” Ani muttered, words cloying in her mouth, “one more chance.” 

_Just like last time_ a small voice at the back of her mind muttered, resigned, barely heard in the current haze.

Bjayzl smiled softly and tilted Annika’s chin up with a crooked finger, bringing their lips together in a kiss. 

Ani smoothed her good hand around Jay’s waist, the material soft against her skin.

The scent of unfamiliar perfume clung to the silk.

* * *

“Morning.” Raffi yawned, walking down to the mess, she hadn’t bothered putting on shoes and the ladder-like stairs cut into her feet.

“Same clothes, Raffi?” Cris observed, wryly.

“No,” Raffi said simply, “On second thought, I’m not speaking to you. Good morning Agnes.” 

Agnes smiled warmly over her coffee.

“Oh but Raf, I know a walk of shame when I see one!” Cris grinned as he leant against the replicator.

“What is a walk of shame?” Elnor asked innocently, from the door to sickbay.

Rios howled, delighted by the Romulan’s perfect timing. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked!”

Raffi glared at her friend as he hung an arm casually around the younger man.

“Cris, come on,” Agnes pleaded, feeling a little sorry for Raffi who was squirming uncomfortably next to the replicator controls. 

“Elnor, a walk of shame is when someone, er,” he paused to choose his words carefully, “spends the night at another’s residence and has to return home the following morning, wearing the same clothes.”

“Oh,” Elnor said simply, rolling the phrase round in his mind for comparison. “Romulans call it Teb’Morth or 'naked soul'.” 

Cris raised his eyebrows.

“You can also translate it as ‘no undergarments’ but that would be crass.”

“I think I preferred it when I thought he was innocent.” Rios blinked.

“But, this is not Raffi’s Teb’Morth.” He gestured to the older woman who’s sudden relief was morphing rapidly back into concern. “She and Seven have not yet consummated their new relationsh-“

“You know what?” Raffi abandoned the replicator, hand held aloft in surrender. “I don’t need pancakes. I’m out.”

“Did someone say pancakes?” Hugh’s voice called out from sickbay.

“Hugh!” Elnor exclaimed, not realising the xB was awake “Yes! I love them. They’re from earth and-“

Raffi could cope with one sweet and innocent soul on board, two was a whole new experience.

“So,” she sighed, her plans of a quiet morning with Seven disappearing, “breakfast anyone?”

* * *

“Ok, change of plan Seven, pancake party for Hugh in sick bay.”

Raffi stormed into the room and roughly pushed her feet into her worn boots.

“I also want to know how the hell Elnor knows so much about,” she sighed, “what I, we, have or haven’t done yet.”

“Elnor spoke to you regarding your ‘naked soul’ right?” Seven smirked knowingly.

“How’d you guess?”

“I took the field replicator down to sickbay yesterday,” she said, stretching her stiff back. “I wanted Emil to have it in case it was required for Hugh. Elnor was there and he had some _persistent_ questions about our ‘meaningful looks on the bridge’”

The xB smiled, “Curious kid.”

Seven rubbed her hands over her face trying to wake herself up in the absence of the promised caffeine. 

“Anyway, I said we’re taking things slow, it seemed like the most efficient way of ending his line of enquiry.” She stifled a yawn and pulled on her jacket. 

Seven crossed the room to wrap her arms around Raffi’s waist, all the better to murmur in her ear.

“I like the word ‘yet’ though.” she trailed off into kissing Raffi’s neck.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Raffi broke away laughing. “I’m not in the mood for a cold shower!” 

_She also didn’t want to go back to the mess after five min alone with Seven and have to look Cris in the eye with a fresh blush at her neck…_

“As you wish.” The xB smiled confidently, hands held neatly behind her back. 

Seven strode toward the door, which opened automatically with a hiss. She turned.

“But I fully intend on picking up where we left off, Ms. Musiker.” She raised an eyebrow, smiled, and walked out of the door.

“Mmhmm,” was all the reply Raffi could manage to the disappearing xB.

Raffi waited until Seven was well out of sight before puffing out her cheeks, holding onto the back of the desk chair for dear life and exhaling a long frustrated sigh.

She tried thinking about Cardassian cryptanalysis.

It didn't help.

She cursed Cris under her breath for being right, five years was _absolutely_ too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Mister Brunt” (FCA!) I think the Ferengi Commerce Authority must have _some_ presence in a place like Freecloud, I’m assuming that Brunt is stationed there and has found a few other ways to supplement his income from the FCA.
> 
> The unexpected downside of writing this chapter is that now I really want pancakes and, because flour is hard to get hold of at the moment, I can’t make them! 
> 
> Thanks for reading :) New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	6. At The Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to beta reader Lintila who would rather be reading about those pretty Chinese sword boys right now, but no, she’s here in space with us lot!
> 
> No content warning today, feelings one though: One of my very favourite things is feeding my friends- preferably with pancakes- hence my name! There’s nothing quite like a full table of your found family. So, if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to dedicate this chapter to everyone who is still separated from those they love. Let’s hope it’s not too long till that reunion <3
> 
> Sorry this chapter’s a little longer than normal- to butcher a line from Terry Pratchett: I knew how to start writing the found family mealtimes but I didn’t know how to stop!

Raffi set off in search of Seven. She arrived on the main deck to the raucous sound, echoing up from the mess, of multiple people trying to move furniture… badly.

“Not there!” 

“Back, back, back,”

“Ow!” 

“Not that far back” Agnes cautioned.

“Lift!” Cris shouted,

Emil’s curt English tone cut over the din. “I’m a doctor _not_ a furniture mov-” 

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, _cabrón,”_ Rios’ interrupted, “I said _lift!_ ”

Raffi ran her hand along the chipped red paint of the railing, peering over at Cris, Emil, Elnor and Agnes, who were trying to move a table from the mess hall into sickbay. 

It wasn’t going well.

She leaned against the cool metal rail and called down to them.

“What’s with the furniture relocation?”

The group looked up at the interruption, pausing to take a welcome break.

Agnes puffed, cheeks flushed. 

“Steward wants us to eat with Hugh for morale and Emil here won’t let him out of the bio bed.” 

_“Who the hell is ‘Steward’?”_ Rios muttered, half to himself, looking confused.

“The EHH?” Agnes shook her head at Cris, before turning back to look up at Raffi. “So we’re taking the mess to sickbay.”

 _“Mess indeed.”_ Sighed Emil who was _not_ happy at the idea of his sickbay being turned into a temporary diner.

A Scottish voice shouted from the transporter controls at the other end of the cargo bay. “Are they out o’ the way, Raffi?” 

Raffi waved at the group, like a conductor, to stand back from the table. Still keeping an eye out for Seven.

The table glittered out of view. Reappearing perfectly positioned next to the round meeting table inside of sickbay. Ian straightened his woolen hat and checked the readout, looking very pleased with himself.

“I’m an Engineer AND a furniture mover, eh?”

Raffi gave him a smile and a thumbs up and headed downstairs.

Seven was in sickbay, standing by the side of the biobed and deep in conversation with Hugh as she helped the EHH wheel the bio bed closer to the action.

With the tables in place, Elnor began to order everything in the replicator’s data banks under the heading ‘pancake’, sub-heading ‘dessert’ as well as ‘pancake topping: sweet’ and “pancake topping: savoury”.

He passed plates to Agnes so fast that the cyberneticist struggled to keep up as she dashed between the mess and sickbay.

Back at the table Enoch pushed chairs into place, rolling gleefully past on a wheeled stool, as Ian tinkered with a long gel pack plasma conditioner he’d brought down from engineering.

The EEH keyed something into the control pad and the flat metal surface began radiating a gentle heat.

“This’ll keep ye nice and warm, ye wee beauties!” He beamed, placing the small Scots pancakes Elnor had replicated onto the surface.

“Is that _sanitary,_ exactly?” Emil questioned, leaning in.

“Oh aye, I decontaminated it m’self. You could eat off it. Sorta the point honestly.”

 _“Plasma-load status: hot.”_ The conditioner announced dispassionately.

“Hmm, let’s see if I ken how tae make her ‘shhh’.”

He played around with the control panel.

_“-status:hot.”_

Ian shrugged. “At least she’s no’ talking about _plasma_ at the breakfast table anymore, eh?”

Rios helped Agnes move plates to the table, looking over his shoulder before asking, “What’s with the holo conference?”

“Hugh’s request,” Agnes passed Cris a plate of berries and a jug of cream. “He found out from Emil about the rest of them and then suggested they join us for breakfast.”

“But they don’t _eat?”_ Cris said, incredulous as he added the fruit to the increasing spread on the table. He scooped a few blueberries off the plate and threw one in the air, catching it in his mouth. 

“I think it's more about the company than anything.” Agnes took a tray of crepes from Elnor’s hands and passed it to Cris.

The young Romulan scanned down the replicator list, satisfied he’d gotten everything.

“Breakfast!” Elnor’s excited voice rang out a summons to the rest of the crew. 

This wasn’t a Romulan ship and there wasn’t a gong to ring before mealtime, so Elnor banged his palm against one of the abandoned mess benches, letting the metallic clang hang in the air before ducking inside sickbay. He got Ian to shuffle down so he could take the spot closest to Hugh. He beamed at the table, proud of his work.

Soji and the Admiral walked down from the bridge, Soji carrying a small clutch of philosophy books. The two of them continued an apparently intense discussion as they made their way to sickbay.

Elnor watched the crew, synth, flesh and holo alike gather at the table. _This was the closest to mealtimes with the Sisters he’d had in far too long_ , he thought feeling at home for the first time since following Picard onto this strange ship.

 _“Qiuu mnek'nra? Ihlla'nh!”_ Elnor grinned, looking at the table full of friends and food. _“This_ will do! Let’s eat!”

The crew tucked in, a little solar system of dishes began a complex orbit, passed from hand to hand around the table.

“Babe, that’s my one!”

“Where’s the syrup?”

“Don’t take _all_ of them!”

“If this is a _blueberry_ why’s it _green_ in the middle?” Elnor asked Hugh curiously.

Raffi raised her eyebrows at Picard’s selection, “Lemon and sugar, JL? Where’s the imagination?!” 

“Breakfast need not require imagination, Raffi.” Picard chuckled, as next to him Soji layered bacon and whipped-cream.

“Just because you don’t appreciate _fine art_ when you see it, old man!” Rios smirked at Soji’s creation while attempting to stop sticky cherries rolling off his own plate.

Emmet had taken the end of the bench next to Seven, knees wide apart, he leaned in toward her.

_“Aquí, mantén tu mano fuerte...”_

Emmet passed her a tool. It was real, the temperature gave it away, the metal was cold, replicated not holographic. _A gift, then?_ Seven thought.

Emmet mimed squeezing the device open and closed, as if exercising his arm. His tattooed skin shifted with gentle effort, the holographic surface of his arm mimicked muscles moving underneath skin. He closed Seven’s hand around the device, then warmly touched her injured arm and offered a kind smile.

“Don’t want to be the _only_ one around here who can shoot, y’know?”

Seven felt a swell of gratitude in her chest. 

“Thank you,” Seven nodded with a slight smile, “this will help regain some strength, my grip has felt… weaker, since the fracture.”

Emmet nodded theatrically over at Raffi opposite them and back.

 _“Ella apreciará,”_ he said with a wicked grin and a wink.

“Emmet!” Cris choked on his coffee.

Seven smirked. 

“There is syrup, _syrup,_ on my dermal regenerator!” Emil plucked the device off the table, with annoyance. 

Mister Hospitality clicked his fingers as he walked past and the sticky residue was removed, much to Emil’s disappointment. _He was looking forward to getting really wound up about that…_

The EHH picked up a glass and refilled it with orange juice, placing it back next to Hugh’s bed and rotating it 30° for reasons clear to only his programming.

“Thank you so much, er…” Hugh trailed off, not knowing how to address this immaculately groomed version of the ship's Captain. 

“Mister Hospitality,” the EHH drawled, wrapping his hands back around his folio, “or Steward if you like?” 

“Which do you like?” Hugh asked, earnestly, watching the holo with interest.

“Oh, well, to be perfectly honest with you, my subroutines don't really give me a preference on the matter.”

“Hmm,” Hugh considered, “then if there’s no emotive difference which sound do you prefer to process the waveform for?”

 _Ah._ Thought the EHH. _This is why he was the director of the Reclamation Project. That sort of question had the nuances of ‘understanding machine thinking’ written all over it._

“I suppose ‘Steward’ has a pleasing ring, now you mention it.”

Hugh looked like he was considering the sound.

“The voiced alveolar stop does have a certain something, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve always thought so.” the EHH replied, preening.

“So, _Steward,_ thank you.” Hugh smiled, “You’re really very kind, I appreciate everything you’ve done.” 

The xB gestured back to some of the creature comforts in the alcove where his biobed has been; books, a personal grooming kit, a little holoscreen that flickered occasionally to display a different image of somewhere soothing. Hugh smiled at the current picture of summer in San Francisco, sunlight gleaming, shimmering on the calm surface of the waters below the bridge.

“But I’m ok. I’ve not been this pampered...in a long time.”

 _Ever, you mean._ Steward thought, expertly reading between the lines of Hugh’s tone and his micro muscle movements. 

“So,” Hugh continued, oblivious to the EHH’s scrutiny, “tell me, do _you_ need anything?”

“Me?” Steward said incredulous, as if thinking about it for the first time. He looked a little lost.

Hugh recognised that look, he’d seen it every day in the Reclamation Project, the moment an xB looks outside their designation for the first time.

“Here, actually I could do with some company?” Hugh shuffled over to make room for the EHH to sit on the biobed.

“So what do you keep in your folio?” He asked, sweetly, starting a conversation.

Raffi sat opposite Seven, with Cris on one side and JL on the other. She took the syrup and passed it along to JL. _Seven and Emmet seemed to be getting along well,_ she thought watching them converse in easy Spanish with Cris just starting to join their conversation.

Raffi looked past Cris to Agnes who was perched on one of the rolling medbay stools on the other side of Rios. 

“Agnes? You’re a synth expert right?” Raffi asked, picking up her coffee and warming both her hands on the cup.

“I want to get Elnor a gift,” Raffi sipped her drink and darted her eyes to see if Cris was listening, but he seemed content talking to Emmet and Seven across the table.

“Do you think you could make a holographic cat for Elnor?”

Cris, overhearing some of his least favourite words in a truly concerning order, leaned back into their conversation and eyed Agnes suspiciously.

“It’s fine Cris, I won’t _make_ a holo cat,” she said dryly.

Raffi frowned, disappointed, _no fun._

Agnes caught her eye and grinned, “Raffi? I already _have_ one I made as a research project. You can just use that!”

Raffi laughed as Rios groaned and pushed his heel against the base of Agnes’ stool and sent her slowly rolling away from the table. 

Agnes giggled, spinning.

 _It was nice that they were getting along,_ Rios thought, _he’s secretly hoped they might. But hadn't really considered what the consequences might be. He wasn’t sure he was ready to find out._

On the other side of the table Seven added some cream to her breakfast. She’d always loved strawberries, had ever since she was a child, and this stack of pancakes overflowed with them. They were good, thought Seven. La Sirena’s replicator must have a better pattern buffer than her old ship. Or maybe she was just in a better mood than usual. She raised one to her mouth, taking a slow bite.

Cris knocked his knee against Raffi’s thigh.

“You’re staring.” He chuckled under his breath.

Raffi watched Seven’s lips close around the strawberry, her heart jumping when Seven's gaze met hers for a moment, as the xB’s tongue swept away the ripe sweetness of the fruit from her glistening lower lip.

Raffi swallowed.

 _“-status: hot.”_ Interrupted the warming plate.

 _Yes,_ Raffi thought helplessly, _hot._

Her thoughts were interrupted by the conversation going on next to her.

“- but if you look at Surak’s _underlying_ argument.” Picard looked at the stack of books next to him, deep in conversation with Soji, eyes scanning unsuccessfully over the spines for the philosophy book Rios had lent him.

“I was reading it earlier,” Picard frowned, “must have left it on my desk.”

The OPS officer felt a satisfying click as the puzzle pieces of a plan fell into place.

 _Go. Get. The Book. As good an excuse as any,_ thought Raffi.

Raffi’s eyes flicked across the table to meet Seven’s. The OPS officer’s face remained perfectly neutral but Seven felt the other woman’s foot deftly run up the back of her calf.

Seven was impressed. She allowed her ocular implant to focus on the barest of fluctuations against the skin of Raffi's neck:

 _60 beats per minute,_ thought Seven, _she was good at this._

Raffi leaned into conversation with Soji and the Admiral, chin propped up on her fist and looking like butter wouldn’t melt.

“Want me to go grab it for you real quick?” Raffi smiled at the Admiral. “Wouldn’t want you to go a whole hour without giving a lecture now, would we?”

“Thank you, Raffi, that would be appreciated.” Picard smiled, helping himself to another crepe, “I think it’s probably on the desk.”

“Sure thing, JL.” The OPS officer said, a friendly hand on Picard’s shoulder as she eased herself off the chair and walked out of sickbay.

Seven watched as Raffi climbed the stairs to the upper level, eyes scanning down that athletic frame of her’s and-

_Fuck it._

“I will assist.” Seven said implacability, standing and striding out of sickbay.

Agnes wheeled back over to Cris, leaning on his shoulder to stifle a snort.

“The real question is do they think they’re actually kidding anyone?” She chuckled.

* * *

The shabby buildings huddled close together in the evening rain. Jake Sisko sighed as the rain water dripped down the back of his collar. His recent series of articles on the chaos across the former neutral zone had sparked fierce debate back at home. Now here he was, in truly dangerous territory, chasing a story to motivate action from the Federation bigwigs. He looked at his PADD and squinted up at the buzzing orange neon sign reading _Ha’Dara._

“Is this the place?” he asked, turning to look at Seven. She strode past him and pushed the gleaming PADD close against his coat.

“Yes, and put that thing away, you’ll attract attention.” 

The xB pushed a strand of wet hair out of her face. She pretended to look at her reflection in the window of the small restaurant, peering instead at the reflection of the market square behind them. _She didn’t think they’d been followed. There were a few local militia in the square but they weren’t doing anything outside of their usual patrol._

Her cheekbone throbbed and her attention pulled to focus instead at the already darkening bruise under her right eye. _Shit._

Jake stood next to her under the aging awning, looking out across the dark, wet street toward the dilapidated square. Somewhere in the distance he heard glass shatter. 

_Fenris hadn’t always been like this,_ he thought sadly and turned to push open the door.

The little restaurant was largely empty, lights off and chairs stacked on tables, all except for a warm pool of light and bubbling conversation in the far corner.

A stern looking Bajoran man greeted them, and fizzed slightly as his holomatrix glitched.

“This is-,” Seven began to introduce Jake, but was cut off by the holo.

“Look, I don’t mind you getting your little story from my best customers, but I’m not taking the risk of the militia dragging you out of here before I’ve got what we agreed on.”

Jake took a (now contraband) holo-emitter out of his overcoat and passed it into the fluctuating hand of the restaurant's owner. 

“Good.” The Bajoran seemed to relax a little. “I’m Iden, shout if you need anything. Rangers are in the back.”

Seven led the way to the long candle lit table, a truly motley crew of assorted Rangers crowded closely round it. She ushered Jake to join them. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Jake said, pulling up a chair. _"Somebody_ had to intervene in a street fight.” 

He took the plate that a young looking Ferengi passed him, smiling in thanks.

“Ha!” A heavy set Klingon laughed heartily from the other end of the table, he clapped the petite Bajoran woman next to him on the back. 

“Told you, my love! Now pay up!”

The Bajoran rolled her eyes as she flicked him a slip of latinum.

The Klingon bit the metal out of habit before pocketing it. “I’ve never _once_ been on patrol with Seven when I’ve _not_ had to pull her out of one sort of fight or another!”

Seven draped her sodden jacket over the back of her chair, sitting down.

“Korok, I think you’ll find you’re the only individual here who’s walked into an arms dealer’s poker game just because you’d just sharpened your mek’leth.”

“Yes, but they don’t bother with me anymore!” He laughed, “I’m too hard to throw around these days!” He patted his large stomach ruefully.

“I have to be more careful now anyway, I’m going to be a father!” He looked adoringly at the Bajoran, who rolled her eyes again and kissed him on the cheek.

Korok turned, grinning, to catch the eye of a beautiful, dark eyed woman in the chair next to Seven. She was sitting watching them, keen interest showing on her face.

“Like I was telling you earlier, you can’t out think Seven and you certainly can’t out fight her!” He said.

Seven turned to look at the newcomer, who held her gaze confidently and winked.

Caught off guard, the xB raised a curious eyebrow before she could stop herself.

“Yes!” Korok continued. “‘Seven’ has been the Fenris Rangers’ lucky number for a while now.”

There was a murmuring of agreement around the table.

“I’ll bet.” Smiled the newcomer, running a finger lightly around the rim of her wine glass. 

“I’m Bjayzl by the way.” She offered her hand.

Seven shook it. The other woman's eyes wandered to her implant.

“Fascinating jewellery?” 

“Jewellery is irrelevant. It’s...Borg.”

“Really?” Bjayzl questioned, as a Bolian further up the table chimed in to make introductions.

“Jay here’s going to be our new communications expert, what she doesn’t know about subspace network encoding isn’t worth knowing.”

“Your data security systems are shot,” Bjayzl shrugged apologetically, “no _wonder_ the Qiris raiders stole your last shipment. You may as well have been broadcasting your location on all frequencies.” 

She leant in to fill a wine glass for Seven and topped up her own.

“Fixed it now though!”

Seven cocked her head. 

“You sound like Icheb. He’s always had strong opinions on the Ranger’s data handling.”

“Your friend sounds smart!” Bjayzl took a sip of her wine, putting down the glass and letting her fingers brush lightly against Seven’s.

 _Could have been an accident,_ Seven thought.

Bjayzl smiled kindly at her. “Is he Ex-Borg too?”

The evening drew on with Jake taking notes about the Ranger’s struggles to keep the fragile peace on Fenris. He censored names and places for safety and added in the occasional bit of flavour about glitching holos, a Klingon and Bajoran husband and wife trading bets. The warmth and comradery of a group of people desperately trying to make a difference. A light table in a darkened room...

_‘A Light in the Dark’? Might be a good name for the story? Come to think of it, ‘Ha’Dara’ meant something to do with light in Bajoran. Huh._ He made a quick note in an attached file.

 _It might be a good read,_ he thought, _if any publisher actually bought it._

The evening wore on, candles burned down. Some of the Rangers made their excuses and headed off, others had broken into smaller, more private conversations. 

Jake was speaking with the young Ferengi about how he’d wound up on Fenris, while Seven got to know the Ranger’s new communications expert. 

“So, Seven’s quite the name? You sound like a secret agent.” Jay laughed warmly. “I thought Ex-Borg usually go back to their old names once they’re disconnected?”

Seven felt exposed. It must have shown too, because the other woman’s expression shifted to concern.

Jay laid a gentle hand on Seven’s arm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, you’re just-”

Seven looked down at the other woman’s thumb stroking across the metal of her wrist.

 _Not an accident this time,_ Seven thought, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. There was something about this newcomer that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But it was as if the air around her felt… safe somehow.

“I was very young when I-,” the xB trailed off. “I’ve been Seven for longer than I’ve been anything else.”

She looked up, meeting Jay’s soft gaze. The chatter around the table and the clinking of plates and glasses seemed to drain away.

_No one had looked at her quite like that since Kathryn, and god, how she’d missed it._

“Annika Hansen,” Seven’s words sounded unfamiliar to her ears, “used to be my name.”

 _“Annika?”_ Bjayzl breathed. Playing with the word on her tongue.

“Such a _pretty_ name.”

* * *

The holosuite door hissed open and the two women tumbled through the door trying not to laugh.

Raffi caught a floor lamp as it started to fall, giggling.

“You know you’re supposed to give it a few minutes at least, make it look _less suspicious!”_

“Rios will give you hell regardless, I figured you might as well get your time’s worth.”

“Now,” Raffi bit her tongue cheekily, “where were we?”

Seven drew herself up just a little and cocked her head, holding her hands behind her back.

“I’m disappointed you’ve forgotten.” She said dryly.

Raffi was a quick study, _this was Seven’s personality when she wasn’t...trying so hard._ She felt a warmth in her chest at the thought of being trusted like that.

Raffi shrugged.

“What can I say, it hasn’t been a particularly memorable morning,” she teased.

“Hmm,” Seven considered, stepping closer, “unfortunate.”

Raffi shrugged again, enjoying the feeling of being coolly confident in front of Seven for once. 

_Finally, a use for all that intelligence training that didn’t make her skin crawl._ With well-practiced skill she slowed her heart right down. Regulating her breathing. Kept her expression neutral, her movements small.

“Well, what can you do?” Raffi said benignly.

Seven looked like she second guessed herself for a moment, a tiny flash of concern moved across her brow.

The xB double checked she was seeing straight. This had been going perfectly to plan until now, and well, things had _changed._ She felt her ocular implant hum gently against her skull trying to spot a tell.

_Trying to spot anything. Had she done something wrong. Misunderstood Raffi’s intentions perhaps?_

“Just to be clear, I intended on kissing you, but-,” Seven’s ocular implant double checked Raffi’s very steady pulse and almost Vulcan breathing.

“You are particularly proficient at keeping a straight face and I-“

“You should see me play poker.” Raffi smirked. She frowned at the lack of response, looking again at the concern on the other woman’s face.

“I would… hate to have misread the situation?” Seven continued quietly, cautiously.

“Seven, hey.” Raffi dipped her head to catch her gaze, eyes flicking between those stunning blue eyes. 

“I didn’t make an ass out of myself in front of 10 people because I was desperate to have a quiet conversation.” Raffi quit consciously trying to lower her heart rate and let her emotions take back over.

Seven watched as Raffi false calm thawed, vitals returning to their previously heightened state. She felt the knot in her stomach begin to ease.

“But I can understand the confusion,” Raffi said with a hint of pride “I told you. I was top of my class, I can lie with the best of ‘em.”

Seven watched Raffi’s gaze drift, dristacted, down and across her skin.

“Just to be clear then, if I lifted you onto that desk and kissed you, that... would be acceptable?”

“Well, honestly babe, I’m going to be disappointed now if you _don't.”_ Raffi smoothed her hands across the shoulders of Seven’s jacket.

“Well, Lieutenant Commander,” Seven purred. The corner of her mouth twitched, as an idea came to mind.

Raffi felt her knees go weak at Seven referring to her by her old rank, _why the hell did that sound so good?_

“You maintain you can _always_ control your heart rate?” Seven raised an eyebrow, taking Raffi’s hand in hers and kissing the inside of her delicate wrist. 

_Fun, will now commence._

“I think that sounds like a challenge?”

Raffi felt a shudder run through her. _Oh, OH. Ok, yeah this is a thing._ Her thoughts hovered somewhere between two deadly sins, and pride began to take the lead.

“A little confident there, aren’t we?” Raffi smiled hurriedly, trying to buy time to get her head clear. “Given I fooled you once?”

“I will adapt.”

Hands firm against the back of Raffi’s thighs, Seven lifted her easily to the desk, before stepping close between her legs. Seven looked at Raffi, her calm face lit with the morning light of what promised to be a warm holographic day in the vineyard. She glanced down at her Raffi’s hands, fingers splayed against the deep green leather writing pad.

 _60 beats per minute is the baseline._ She noted. _Additional variables will now be added._

_Variable 1._

Seven slowly smoothed her hands against Raffi’s hips. The other woman smiled, infuriatingly smugly, as if to say _‘What else you got?’_

Seven assessed the situation. _60 beats per minute? Fine._ _Variable 2, then._

Seven’s eyes flicked from Raffi’s gaze to her self satisfied smile, before pressing their lips together tenderly.

Raffi returned the kiss, gladly but calmly. The quiet of the room was broken only by the muffled wingbeat of a departing dove outside the window. 

The lazy tick of the clock on the mantle echoing the equally slow and even tempo in Raffi’s chest.

_60 beats per minute, still? God, she’s good._

_Variable 3._

Seven deepened their kiss, and Raffi couldn’t help but softly moan at the taste of Seven mingling with the faint sweetness of the strawberries still lingering on her lips. 

The xB felt a hand creep up into her hair...

_70 beats per minute! Progress._

The hiss of the holosuite door made Raffi’s stomach drop.

She snatched the book from the side of the desk and opened it on a random page, desperately trying to look busy as she threw herself into the desk chair.

Seven dropped to her knees and crawled under the desk.

“Raffi?” Seven heard Picard walk into the room.

The xB crouched in the dark under the desk. This was ridiculous, childish, and completely undignified.

And also more fun than she’d had in years.

“Making yourself at home I see?” Picard asked, a smile in his voice.

Seven smirked and listened closely, auditory processors straining as she tried to block out Picard’s voice. The dark wood of the desk echoed back the faintest trace of Raffi’s heart rate. The OPS officer’s pulse, which had briefly surged at the interruption, began to settle as she wrestled it back under control.

 _Oh no you don’t,_ thought Seven.

She smoothly wrapped her hands around the back of the other woman’s calves, lightly, in case Raffi didn’t want to play along. 

_65 beats per minute. And she hadn’t moved away..._

“JL! Didn’t expect you, I was just on my way back.” Raffi lied. Pretending to scratch her knee and instead pressing Seven’s hand against her leg.

Seven grinned and gently squeezed the muscles under her palms in answer.

_70._

“I thought I’d better come and help you.” Picard continued. “Rios thought you might have forgotten the author?”

 _That absolute bastard!_ Raffi thought. _He’s just sore about the cat._

Seven kissed one knee.

_75._

And then the other. 

_80._

Smiling against the fabric as Raffi’s voice cracked just a little.

 _“Nah,_ Cris just likes to think he’s the only one around here who’s read Surak!” Raffi laughed.

“I didn’t realise you’d studied Vulcan existentialism, Raffi?” Picard sounded impressed. “What’s your favourite passage?”

 _JL, You’re killing me here._ Raffi grimaced.

“Oh y’know probably-” Raffi chose a knowing verse, “ _‘The mind controls the body; control the mind and the body will follow.’_ ”

Seven raised her eyebrows at the quote.

 _We’ll see about that,_ she thought and ran her sure palms upwards across Raffi’s thighs. Splaying her thumbs slowly so they ran along the inside seam of the fabric.

_90..._

“Oh certainly,” Picard agreed, “classic Surak of course. But what about his _Ode to Peace,_ from the Federation Day Address? _‘Reach out to others courteously. Accept their reaching in the same way, with careful hands’?”_

Raffi _knew_ Seven was laughing at that one.

Seven grinned wickedly. _Well, perhaps if it’s in the spirit of Surak then...maybe just a little higher?_

Raffi coughed conspicuously and crossed her legs. Swinging the desk chair to angle herself away from Seven.

_100 beats per minute._

Seven suppressed a laugh. _We have a winner._

“Oh and Raffi?”

“Yeah, JL?”

“The book? It’s upside down.”

Raffi’s eyes flicked down at the open book in her hands and felt her stomach drop out of the bottom of the hull.

_Shit._

“I just, uh.” 

“Raffi, might I suggest,” Picard stepped forward, took the book from his old first officer's hands and turned to leave, “the old Academy trick of leaving the door console on ‘Maintenance Code C’?”

Raffi distractedly rubbed the back of her neck in rising embarrassment.

“That is of course if Seven shows up?” Picard smiled, angelically, as he walked away from the desk.

“Don’t be too long, Raffi? Hugh wanted to speak to everyone after breakfast.”

The OPS officer watched him leave. Speechless.

“Oh, _god,”_ Raffi pressed her forehead against the cool leather surface of the edge of the desk.

Seven crawled out from her hiding place to see Raffi’s face completely hidden under her wild hair.

Seven’s knowledge of Starfleet Academy was extensive despite having never attended herself. She’d processed gigaquads of information on the subject while aboard Voyager.

Even so, she was at a loss.

“What’s ‘Maintenance Code C’?” Seven asked, kneeling next to Raffi’s chair.

“Seven, just kill me now, ok? Thank you.” Raffi muttered from under her hair.

“Sorry? Did I miss something?”

Raffi rolled her head to the side and peered through loose strands of hair to the woman kneeling at her side.

 _“‘Maintenance Code C’?”_ She said, all her intelligence training flying out of the window to the vineyard as she blushed and stammered, sitting up.

“Yes?”

“Seven, _oh my god!_ I can’t go and sit next to JL now! Captain’s can’t _say_ things like that? I mean I suppose he's not _technically_ a Captain, but-”

Seven smiled at the flustered woman beside her.

“Do you intend on enlightening me at any point?” The xB pushed herself off the floor and offered a hand to Raffi to help her from the chair. Raffi obliged.

“‘Maintenance Code C’ is the code which turns off the door recognition of your combadges, it’s the one with the little blinking light?”

Raffi felt another wave of embarrassment hit her.

Seven brushed the holographic dust off her knees and looked back at Raffi.

“I still don’t see what…”

“Seven?” Raffi said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“It… means a sock on the door handle.”

Seven’s stoic face broke into a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send help, the notes are getting longer. Normal programming will be resumed next week, honestly! XD
> 
> Spanish brought to you by the ever dubious Google translate. If you’re a native Spanish speaker and I’ve goofed please let me know, I’m happy to tweak.  
>  _Cabrón_ / asshole, dumbass, bastard  
>  _Aquí, mantén tu mano fuerte_ / Here, keep your hand strong  
>  _Ella apreciará_ / She will appreciate 
> 
> Romulan from [Starbase118.](https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php/Romulan_Dictionary)  
>  _Qiuu mnek'nra?_ / Is everyone well? (inferior to superior)  
>  _Ihlla'nh_ / That's just enough; That'll do; You'll do.
> 
>  _Ha’Dara_ / [“Home of Light” in Bajoran.](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Ha%27Dara)
> 
> The restaurant owner is Iden, one of the sentient holos Voyager encountered on their travels. Season 1 of Picard didn’t go into much detail about how the synth ban affected holographic life but in this I’m assuming Iden is living in secret on Fenris to avoid the Federation forcibly deactivating him again.
> 
> Logistics of how to fit 7 crew, 1 rescued xB and 5 holos AND their breakfast into sickbay, brought to you by Arelithil’s fine work over at [Mapping La Sirena.](https://mappinglasirena.tumblr.com/) If you haven’t had a look at the mapping deep dives yet, I highly recommend it!
> 
> I blame Talvenhenki’s fic [The Voyages of The Freighter La Sirena](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311603/chapters/56162392) for my now unshakable belief that Seven & Emmet would be bros.
> 
> Grown-up but still trying to make a difference Jake Sisko inspired by Melospiza_melodia’s fic [Human (n.)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739736)
> 
> ‘Agnes with a student project holo cat’ robbed, lovingly, from Thimblerig’s [The Importance of Being Elnor.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22983115)
> 
> Praise be to Kaylee/Firefly for the strawberry eating vibes.
> 
> The Surak quotes are from [Memory-Beta,](https://memory-beta.fandom.com/wiki/Surak#:~:%0Atext=Quotes,in%20ShiKahr's%20market%20place.&text=%22The%20calm%20mind%20is%20the%20one%20that%20truly%20knows.%22)though I did take a little creative licence about where they were spoken.  
>  _"The mind controls the body; control the mind and the body will follow."_  
>  ‘Reach out to others courteously. Accept their reaching in the same way, with careful hands’
> 
> Finally - If you liked these space pancakes, boy do I have a fandom event for you! Hop over to [Star Trek Fandom Potluck](https://fandompotluck.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for a fandom event celebrating Star Trek through food, drink and community. Held 20th July - 2nd August 2020 <3
> 
> Thanks for reading :) New chapters (back to the normal length!) posted on Sundays <3


	7. You’re Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to beta reader Lintila, they don’t make ‘em like her any more. Thank god. She scares me.
> 
> (CW: Mild but numerous this week. A warning for Bjayzl maliciously manipulating/controlling Annika’s relationships with friends, implied (but not seen) animal abuse, a mention of a hospitalised child, references to alcoholism, and I’d hesitate to call it ‘dead-naming’ but certainly others using Seven/Annika’s preferred name incorrectly. A heads up if you need one x)

Raffi slunk back to the mess. Seven allowing a good five minutes to lapse before following her. The table was filled with a full and happy crew. They had broken into groups, little hubs of easy conversation over coffee and decaf tea. The attempted ruse of Seven’s perfectly calculated arrival was broken by the not so subtle offer of a fist bump from Emmet, as the xB sat down. A smile crept at the corners of her mouth as she answered the gesture with her human hand.

Cris rolled his eyes, though his smile was good natured.

Hugh sat up straighter in bed, body still aching from the ordeal on the Artifact but feeling better all the time, especially when looking over the group before him. _What an odd collection of souls,_ he thought, _and what a fine family they make to each other, whether they realised it yet or not._

He dinged the side of his nearly empty glass with a spoon and waited for the hubbub to die away.

“-artificial intelligence? More like artificial _irrelevance!”_ Agnes blushed as the end of her anecdote met a quiet table. “Sorry!” 

Cris hung an easy arm around her waist and kissed her hair, chuckling.

Hugh put the glass down and eased himself out of bed, slowly, standing at the head of the table. Emil rose with him out of concern, only to be waved back down by the xB.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Hugh began, his smile creasing his scarred face kindly. “This could have been a very _different_ few days for me and I'm incredibly grateful for all you’ve done.”

He looked at Elnor, his gaze met with gentle but intense attention from the younger man.

“You risked a lot in coming back for me,” he turned his eyes to Seven and the Admiral, “and I know all too well that can’t have been an easy thing for you to do.”

Hugh caught his reflection in the bright surface of the warming plate. The bright, round halos of the sickbay lights filling the space left by the food. Hugh watched in the reflection as his mismatched eyes contracted in response to the gleam, the blue iris faster than his own.

“You saved my life. I’ll never be able to thank you enough. So, in lieu of that, let me give you the gift of knowing that you all are a family to each other.”

Mister Hospitality looked as if he was on the verge of tears, dropping a hand from his folio to Emil’s shoulder. The EMH froze a moment and then smiled.

“And I’m sure it might feel as if that’s somehow not ‘allowed’,” Hugh deliberately caught Soji’s eye, “because you feel like you only just met or that surely family _must_ be more than this? But take it from someone who has built every family he’s ever been a part of. Sometimes this,” he gestured round at the table, “is _exactly_ what a family looks like.”

Raffi felt Cris’ hand quietly find her own, she squeezed back, her chest aching happily. 

There were murmurs of agreement around the table, even from Picard.

“‘I’ll stop embarrassing you all now,” Hugh laughed, “I don’t think Jean Luc can take much more emoting this decade anyway.”

Picard laughed into his Earl Grey. His ears warm with embarrassment.

“A toast then?” Hugh raised his mostly empty glass, _or previously mostly empty glass?_

Steward winked at him. _Nothing gets past that holo!_ Hugh thought.

“To family?”

The syncopated clink of cups, glasses and one tartan thermos filled sickbay.

_“To family!”_

Later Raffi strolled towards the holosuite. Catching snippets of diplomacy from the bridge as she passed, as Picard and Soji liaised with the Synths over the events surrounding Hugh’s rescue.

The holosuite doors hissed open at her approach, revealing Agnes in the chateau, idly browsing Picard’s collection of vintage hardbacks.

“So!” Raffi clapped her hands together excitedly. “Holocat?”

Agnes grinned, nodding. “Computer, end programme.”

The wood and stone of the Admiral’s French study melted away. All but a few conspicuous real bottles, mixed in with the fading holographic ones at the bar behind the desk.

_“That’s_ where he’s been hiding them!” Raffi laughed, watching as La Sirena’s holodeck safety algorithm lowered the glass bottles gently to the now black and yellow grid of the floor.

“Activate holo-imaging workstation.” Agnes said, not looking up from her palm holo and she scrolled through her personal files.

A grey workstation and a bench appeared, and Agnes’ hands moved experty across the controls, uploading the necessary information from her palm holo to La Sirena’s main computer.

“Right!” The cyberneticist said brightly. “Let’s see how my student project holds up?”

She entered a command sequence and a violently coloured cat stretched and yawned it’s way into existence on the workbench. Its fur was a bold red and almost neon yellow checkerboard pattern. The words _“Go! ‘Bay Breakers!”_ written in big, black lettering across its side.

“Not what I was expecting!” Raffi laughed.

Agnes looked sheepish. “Ah. I think the last time I activated him was the Academy parrises squares finals.”

“Did you win?” Raffi asked.

“Oh, I didn’t play. My girlfriend was the team captain though.” She smiled and shrugged. “They lost.”

Raffi smirked, “No change from my day then? We got to the semis, it looked like we were going to win and everything! That is until Harry Kim took a mallet to the ribs.”

Agnes winced sympathetically.

“Oh well, ‘Go ‘Bay Breaker-” Raffi’s reminiscing was cut short as the cat opened its mouth in what looked like a _meow,_ but what sounded like a _deafening air-horn._ The two of them jumped, covering their ears.

“Aagh! Computer end audio.” Agnes yelled. 

“I forgot it did that.” She said apologetically.

The cat sat and looked at both of them expectantly, if a little confused.

“Ok, so your non-Starfleet cheer colour choices are ginger or black?” Agnes said, scrolling between the two colours using her palm holo.

Raffi watched as the ginger strobed into black and back again, the little cat's eyes flickering in colour from gold to blue.

“I’m not sure, what do you think Elnor would like?”

Agnes shrugged, “No idea. I guess chimeras are a thing? For the indecisive owner?” Agnes teased dryly, pinching her fingers apart as half the cat’s face stayed ginger and the left side shivered back to black.

“Ooh! A comparison! Good idea, thanks!” Raffi grinned.

The cat stretched lazily, toes spread wide and pink tongue curling. Raffi stroked it gently under the chin with a crooked finger. She thought back to Cris’ hand in hers at breakfast.

“Have I said thank you yet?” Raffi turned to the cyberneticist, thoughtfully.

“It was literally the last this you said?”

“What?” She laughed. “No I don’t mean this.” 

Raffi softly stroked the holocat. “I mean for what you’ve done for Cris?”

Agnes looked a little wide eyed, “Oh god, what’s he told you?!”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Raffi chuckled, making a mental note to find out from Cris later what could possibly cause _that_ reaction. “No, I just mean-”

Raffi floundered. _This heart to heart thing had seemed so much easier in her head._

“Just _thanks,_ for being good to him.” The OPS officer tried to remember the last time she’d seen her oldest friend as happy as he had been recently. She came up blank.

“I’ve seen him with quite a few people over the years and-”

“Making me feel great here, Raffi.” Agnes teased, the faintest hint of a smile at her lips.

“Quit it!” Raffi scowled playfully. “Interrupting me isn’t helping. I’m trying to say you’re _good_ for him.”

Agnes glib expression melted a little. 

“You think?”

The thaw continued as she hopped up onto the work bench, her legs swinging. “I guess I just thought, I don’t know…”

Agnes tucked a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear, worrying her lip as she chose her words. “That maybe I’m... a bit of a burden?”

_Ah,_ thought Raffi, _she knew that feeling._

“You do remember last week when you, oh so casually, brought JL back from the dead, right?”

“Well they already had the golem body and-”

“Jeez, Agnes!” Raffi joined the younger woman on the table, the cat between them, perfectly lifelike, if a little unusual in colouring. “You’re a bonafide _genius._ And a good person too, which is worth more honestly. Cris is lucky to have you.”

Agnes looked up at Raffi, her light brows arched together in a look of sincere and heartfelt thanks that she couldn’t quite articulate. She tapped her combadge.

“Jurati to Rios?”

_“Yeah?”_

“You’ve got great friends.”

_“What? Get off the comms with this maldi-”_ Agnes made a ‘yeah yeah’ gesture at Raffi as the Captain ranted.

Raffi leaned in so Agnes’ combadge would up her voice.

“And send Elnor to the holosuite. We’ve got a present for him.”

_“Raf? That you? What are the two of you d-”_

“Jurati out!” Agnes cut him off and quieted the line with a quick tap.

There was a clanging of someone taking the mess hall stairs at a run, the door to the holosuit hissed open revealing a beaming Elnor.

“The Captain said you had a _horrible_ surprise for me? I think he means that as humour though I-” Elnor’s eyes landed on the cat. _He gasped._

Raffi scooped up the cat and placed it at the Romulan’s feet.

“Thanks for calling me Kal’Vreen, honey.” The OPS officer smiled. “What are you going to call him?”

“Let me guess? Spot?” Agnes propped her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands.

“Of course not! That is Data’s cat. And this cat is _not_ Data’s cat. Wait? _I_ am to name him?” Elnor questioned, still awestruck.

“Your cat to name!” Raffi grinned. “How about a _pretty_ name like ‘Angelo’?”

Elnor lowered himself onto his heels and stared intensely into the cat’s two tone eyes before nodding decisively. 

“I’ll call him ‘Hugh’.”

Agnes and Raffi shared a look.

“We already _have_ a Hugh, Elnor.” Agnes added, helpfully.

“I’ll call him ‘Hugh Two’ then, so we can tell the difference.”

“I don’t know what I expected.” Raffi shrugged, chuckling.

“Nice to meet you.” Elnor nodded his head in a little bow to the cat. “May I call you Hugh too, Hugh Two?”

He put a hand out tentatively and the little cat bumped his forehead across it lovingly.

“Is-, is that a gesture of friendship?”

“Looks like it likes you,” Raffi smiled.

Elnor looked back at the cat as it slowly closed it’s gold and blue eyes at him.

His smile turned to a gasp, hands flying to his shocked face, as the cat licked its paw and began fastidiously cleaning its whiskers.

“He’s doing it! _He’s doing it!”_

“Oh, _thank you Raffi!”_ Elnor drew Raffi into a hug. Raffi paused a moment, taken aback by the sudden and unexpected feeling of missing Gabe so much she almost couldn’t breathe. She pressed Elnor’s strong body against herself and tried to keep a straight face.

Elnor straightened his robe and looked down fondly at the mismatched eyes staring back at him.

“Alright, little friend. Let me show you the ship? We’re going to teach your namesake some exercises this afternoon.”

The little hologram trotted after him, tail held high.

* * *

Annika paused, panting, in the alleyway before ducking down to kneel behind a dumpster. _She’d probably lost them._

She could feel her nanoprobes flooding to the back of her calf where the phaser fire had grazed her leg.

_That was way too close._

As her breath leveled she watched a terrified young cat, wet orange fur clinging to it’s skin, as it hurtled round the opposite corner. It mewled in terror and dashed behind Annika’s legs as a gangly looking, grim faced young boy rounded the corner after it.

“Hey, half-meat. You seen my cat?”

The grubby ball of fluff made itself small, flinching at the sound of his voice. 

“That is _not_ my designation.” Seven pressed her lips into a line and gently picked up the shaking creature, stroking its fur down and gripping gently but firmly on the back of its neck. The little creature froze and went limp, young enough to still have a scruffing reflex.

“If you haven’t seen my cat then what the fuck’s that then?” He pointed to her metal laced hand, as she tucked the little animal gently into her jacket. 

_“My_ cat.” She stood up, nonchalantly shouldering her phase rifle. Her glare daring the young man to argue with her.

“Come on, Sunshine,” Annika spoke into the warm folds of her jacket, “let's go home.”

The peeling posters of Fenris' back streets fluttered as she strode past. Her eyes glanced up, a tired apartment block in the distance held up a glitching neon holo ad:

_Manheim Subspace Networking: YOUR message in SAFE hands!_

Annika checked her palm holo and sighed at the empty inbox, remembering the subspace call with Tom this morning:

“Hey, there she is!” Tom Paris’ face shuddered into view. “Wow, the signal’s _really_ bad, Seven. Ranger’s can’t afford the extra subspace relay connection?”

“The funds have been divided as efficiently as possible. Clear visuals are not a top priority.”

“I can tell!” He laughed. “So how’ve you been Seven? I heard from Sisko Jr. you’re seeing someone?”

“I’m using the designat- _name_ Annika, now.”

“Huh? Oh, how come? Doesn’t that put a dent in the Ranger’s bragging rights? They’re always going on about you. I think you’re their poster child at this point.”

“It… allows me to feel more human.”

“I didn’t think that was your goal these days? Not after the-” he paused, thinking better of it.

“You can say ‘relationship failure’, Tom.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘failure’, Seven?”

“Kathryn abandoned me in favour of her work. I think she got tired of her little Borg pet project. And you’re using the wrong name on purpose, now it seems.”

“What? Shit. No, I just, it’ll take a bit of getting used to that all. Feels weird I guess.”

“Jay likes it.”

“Hmm, about her, Sev- _Annika_ ,” he corrected, sighing. “I know things are still icy with you and the Captain but-”

“And what would you know about it?”

“Only what B’Elanna heard from her,”

“Good to know you’re all on such _friendly terms_ in my absence.”

“It’s not like that, we just bump into Janeway now and then at some of the reunions. People always say ‘where’s Seven?’”

_“Annika.”_

“Well, yes, but they don’t know that, right? Anyway, this Jay person, how come she’s got opinions on your name? Last time I checked you didn’t change yourself just because you’d met someone.”

“I did for Kathryn.”

“That was different! You were _Borg.”_

“Nevertheless, I still changed my designation for her. I wasn’t Seven until she _made_ me Seven.”

“I just,” Tom smoothed a palm across the five o’clock shadow at his cheek thoughtfully. He looked tired. “I don’t know if I like the sound of this new Ranger.”

“Because?”

“Jake doesn’t trust her,” he shrugged, “and he’s a good judge of character.”

“I will remember to check with Jake next time I choose a partner.” Seven said coldly, jaw muscles tensing.

“Hey calm down, I didn’t mean it like that. Though honestly, why _don’t_ you try speaking to the Captain, eh, Seven? It can’t hurt right? Patch things up between the two of you? You guys had it really good back in the day and B’Elanna said it didn’t work out between Kathryn and Mark and-”

“I am _not_ a consolation prize, Tom.” Her hand hovered over the disconnect, “And that’s not my name.”

She’d disconnected the call.

Back at her small apartment Annika dumped her rucksack and phaser by the door and put the cat on the ground gently. It investigated the dangling end of a shoulder strap. Batting it playfully.

She keyed an order into the ageing replicator. It fizzed hopelessly. She slammed the keypad with her fist and forearm - the tried and true ‘Tom Paris percussive maintenance’ trick. It worked. The machine hummed into life and produced a saucer of water and a small bowl of shredded chicken.

She placed it on the floor and the little cat trotted over. Lapping thirsty at the water and scarfing down the chicken at an alarming speed. 

Annika checked her subspace logs - _empty._ She tossed the palm holo onto the coffee table and sighed, her stomach twisting. _Maybe she’d fucked it up properly with Tom this time?_

Bjayzl breezed in, throwing her heavy overcoat on to the sofa and eying the furball by the xB’s feet.

“I said no to the _last_ one.” She sighed. “Don’t name it this time, at least? It’s off to the shelter first thing in the morning.”

Seven sighed in resignation and bent down to pick up the empty saucer, placing it in the reclimator.

Jay’s eyes darted to the table as some orange text blinked into view above the xB’s unattended palm holo. A tiny, static, black and white holo image of a man with a pair of goggles pushed up into his hairline, hands pointing a ridiculously cartoonish looking weapon out of frame. 

Jay took a seat on the couch, leaning closer to read the subject line: _“Hey, Constance? Sorry about earlier.”_

Jay glanced over her shoulder, checking the xB wasn’t looking before tapping open the communication.

_“Remember, in Captain Proton? You made a great holodeck partner you know? I really should have got Harry to be the secretary though. You were always better with a ray gun than his ‘Buster Kincaid’ ever was._

_Look. I’m sorry about earlier._

_I was an asshole. You wanna be called Annika? Of course I’ll call you that if you want me to. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m honestly just a bit of a mess at the moment._

“Want anything, Jay?” Came a voice from across the room, interrupting her concentration.

“A Samarian Sunset, thanks.” Jay said, not taking her eyes off the transmission, “But can you replicate the ingredients and mix it properly? Tastes better.” She lied, trying to buy time.

“Tastes better? Really?” Annika cocked her head, “This better be worth my while?” She said coyly.

Jay looked up from the palm holo hidden below the level of the couch, and leisurely down across Annika’s form, the xB was leaning against the replicator and smirking.

“Hmm,” Bjayzl grinned, keeping the holo out of sight, “I can _absolutely_ make it worth your while.”

Annika looked smug, before turning back to replicating cocktail ingredients. Bjayzl’s eyes dropped back to the communication, dark eyes moving hurriedly across the words.

_What with Miral in the hospital again and now everything going on at Starfleet. I just feel like I’m drowning these days. I’m back in the programme, but honestly, sometimes it feels like being drunk might be better than feeling this out-of-it without even drinking. Neither me or B'Elanna are getting much sleep between trips to the kid’s ward and I can’t stop worrying. I mean, you know what it’s like, right? I know you fret whenever Icheb’s away._

_I just wish life were easy for once. I miss the old days sometimes. It was kinda hard to feel like I’d fucked up if we made it through to the end of the week. That is if all the shuttles were in one piece and I wasn’t in the brig, of course._

_I know it didn’t really end well between you and the Captain, but that doesn’t mean you’re not still_ _our_ _friend. I mean, honestly, you’re family. I don’t know if I ever said that to you before, but it doesn't make it any less true. They tell us we’re supposed to ‘communicate openly’ on the programme. So, hey, I guess I’m getting somewhere for once?_

_I’m blabbering. Sorry. You were always the best us, Annika. And I just...really miss you, you know?_

_Anyway. I’m an idiot. And I’m sorry. Call me if you want to talk, ok?_

_Love you, Ani._

_Tom._

Jay sneered and, with a dismissive flick, sent the communication glittering into nothingness.

_Another one down,_ she thought as she quickly purged the data log too. Sliding the palm holo back in place on the coffee table just in time, as Annika walked over with their drinks. 

“Satisfactory?” Annika said with a smile as she eased herself on to the couch and clinked their glasses together. The clear liquid inside gleamed into spiraling green with the catalyst of the kinetic energy, slowly dissipating into a glittering sunset orange that lit up Bjayzl’s self satisfied smile. Annika checked her subspace communications, frowning a little at the empty log.

“I thought Tom might have…” she muttered to herself, trailing off as a frown ghosted across her features. 

_Jay felt something fray and weaken in the xB’s mind, an emotional thread drawn thin and tight._

_That feeling of a connection, just barely holding on._

Bjayzl sipped her drink, it was expertly made, _delicious._

_Jay considered the wavering emotional tie. Felt the shape of it against Annika's thoughts. Saw the root of it in her memories._

She took another sweet sip and closing her eyes tasted the sugar in the cocktail and the satisfying strain of a relationship tested to breaking point.

_This one ran deep, it was obvious. Some relationships felt different to the empathic touch; this one was old and tested. Forged in tough times and fed in good ones._

_There weren't that many of Annika’s old friends left now. She’d waited a long few months to be able to get rid of this Paris guy. Some of the others had been a little easier to deal with but Tom had staying power, the little shit._

_Not for long._

_She ran the knife of her words against the sharpening strop. And waited just till Annika’s shoulders dropped a little lower and..._

“Oh, _Ani,”_ Jay said, voice dripping thickly with consolation and empathy, “don’t worry about it ok? I’m sure he’ll get in touch if he _really_ cares.”

_Snap._

* * *

Raffi hung her legs over the edge of the upper deck and leaned against the cool railing above the mess. She swung her feet, watching as down below Ian and Steward wrangled the mess furniture back into place. Just inside the door to sickbay she could see Emil fastidiously straightening his hyposprays as he grumbled about syrup.

She could hear the strains of gentle conversations too, from the far end of the ship, as Elnor led Hugh to the open cargo space. Deep in enthusiastic explanation of something.

There was also the confident rhythm of footsteps getting closer and Raffi turned to see a pair of boots. She lifted her gaze to Seven’s face, half silhouetted against the La Sirena’s strip lights above.

“Mind if I join you?” Seven asked.

“Please,” Raffi said with a smile, the deck clanging lightly under her tapping palm.

“I’m trying to figure out what _cute_ and _cuter_ are doing over there.” She nodded over to Elnor and Hugh bowing to each other over by the transporter platform.

Seven eased herself onto the floor, threading her legs under the chipped red and black railing and, after a milliseconds consideration, shuffled a little closer to Raffi.

“That is Dhei Vas’khaa,” Seven said watching as Elnor’s lean frame moved from one perfected stance to the next. Hugh’s shaky forms slowly echoed next to the taller man.

“Or, at least, I think it’s _intended_ to be.”

The two sat in comfortable silence watching the Romulan display. Raffi closed her eyes and appreciated for a moment the feeling of Seven’s thigh against her own.

The sound of JL’s continued diplomatic hail from the bridge, the holos good natured bickering, Elnor’s slow instructions and the low hum of the engines bled together into a feeling she hadn’t felt since wearing a uniform. She rubbed her neck in thought and half expected to feel metal pips against her fingertips. 

A gentle, rhythmic, metallic tinging drew Raffi back from her thoughts, as Seven tapped out an idle tune against the rail. The softest hummed strain of _‘You Are My Sunshine’,_ cut short. _Perhaps she hadn’t realised it was out loud?_ Raffi wondered, smiling.

Eyes still on Elnor she draped her hand on the railing so it hung next to Seven’s.

She waited hopefully, still watching the Dhei Vas’khaa and doing her very best to be nonchalant. Trying not to think that by this point Seven was probably observing her goddamn body language and making deductions.

_Seven observed the other woman's body language and made deductions._

“I’m not sure I can keep up with you on this.” Hugh sighed. 

He sat down on the edge of the transporter platform, and steadied his breath. They hadn’t been going long at all and Hugh could already feel the tiredness seeping into his limbs.

He huffed, and a ginger and black cat came trotting over to him.

“Who’s this?” Hugh asked, gently stroking the cat, feeling it’s soft holographic fun against his palm.

“This is _Hugh Two!_ I named him after you!” Elnor looked happily down at Hugh. His face fell at the frown across the other man’s features.

“That’s nice, I guess.”

“You are not pleased? I shouldn’t have used your name. It was rude of me?” Elnor had hoped Hugh might be flattered. Might see how much of an impression the xB had made on him. 

“I’m very sorry Hugh.” Elnor took a seat next to the older man. “I will ask the cat if I can rename him.”

“Not it’s just-” 

_Hugh looked at the cat’s two tone face, those mismatched eyes. Is this how Elnor saw him? A little cobbled together thing? He'd feared as much. This just confirmed it._

“I didn’t realise quite how piecemeal I looked to you.” Hugh sighed, heavily.

Elnor laid a warm palm on Hugh’s arm.

“Hugh. I think you misunderstand my intention. I did not name the cat for you in humour. Raffi _told_ me to choose a _pretty_ name.”

Elnor let go of Hugh’s arm to tap the deep blue cloth of his lap. The cat jumped up, settling down into a neat, comfortable curl on the Romulan’s knees.

_What did he just say?_ Thought Hugh. His stomach was doing backflips as he watched Elnor run a gentle thumb between the cat’s ears.

“His eyes are so very beautiful.” 

Hugh met Elnor’s gaze with obvious surprise. Floundering hopelessly for a response. 

The Romulan continued, his voice warm, his tone even.

“And he reminded me of how _you_ are very beautiful and I-”

The xB wasn’t sure what to say. The younger man looked so deeply earnest and unflustered. Hugh opened his mouth and couldn’t find any words. Instead he reached over to pet the black and ginger cat.

Hugh Two purred contentedly.

“I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable Hugh.” Elnor said simply.

“No, please,” Hugh found his voice at the sight of Elnor’s shoulders sagging. “Not uncomfortable.”

Hugh hesitated a moment before he took Elnor’s hand in his and smiled.

“Quite the opposite.”

Raffi watched the goings on at the transporter pad with interest, until the ringing rail next to her quieted. Seven threaded her fingers through Raffi’s own and the OPS officer sighed contentedly. The now familiar feeling of a smooth metal thumb stroking over the inside of her palm. Since the holos weren’t looking, she dipped her head to gently kiss Seven’s knuckles. Warm metal soft against her lips.

_Had it really only been a few days?_ She thought looking back down into the mess where their hands had first met.

The tables were back where they belonged and the EHH was bending down to table level, squinting to make sure they were aligned. He was muttering something about whether or not he should move the replicator again.

“Steward?” Raffi called down to him.

“Yes, Raffi?”

“Looks like the Romulan stretching thing isn’t really working out up here.”

Emil ducked out of sickbay at the sound of Raffi discussing _his_ patient.

“I think you’ll find Dhei Vas’khaa is a _perfect_ combination of strength and cardio training and should work excellently for-”

“But it’s no _fun.”_ Raffi interrupted, sneaking another glance at the two men lost in each other's eyes at the other end of the ship.

“We need dancing. That’ll be gentle exercise, right? I’m thinking _ballroom,_ something-“

“-classic Earth?” Steward joined in with mounting excitement in his voice.

Emil rolled his eyes and rocked back on his heels contemplating.

“It _would_ be sweet if it was fun for Hugh?” Raffi half pleaded with the Doctor.

“Fine.” Emil conceded. “Nothing _too_ strenuous. But yes, the social aspect _would_ have some medical benefits and gentle exercise would be adequate-“

“Oh, I think I can do a little better than _‘adequate’.”_ Steward scoffed and vanished.

Reappearing a moment later looking sheepishly at Emil. “My apologies, that was rather rude.”

Raffi laughed and then jumped a little as the EHH appeared suddenly sitting close beside her.

“I just-” He squeezed his folio tightly to his chest, frowning like that hadn’t been enough and threw his arms around the OPS officer instead.

“It’s so _good_ to have you around Raffi, the Captain never lets me plan anything.”

She let go of Seven's hand and squeezed the holo gently against her chest, before drawing back.

“Find something with rhythm, Steward,” She turned to look Seven up and down theatrically.

“I’ve got a date?” She said questioningly, heart in her throat and hoping she wasn’t being too presumptuous.

“Invitation accepted.” Seven smiled warmly and cocked her head.

Raffi beamed and turned back to the EHH.

“Steward? I wanna _dance."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw [this cat](https://mymodernmet.com/chimera-cat-quimera/) and I KNEW.
> 
> “Manheim Subspace Networking” was a nod to [Paul Manheim](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Paul_Manheim) who I’m thinking stopped fiddling with time and went into telecoms? Though, admittedly, I largely just wanted a scientist beginning with ‘M’ to make the subspace network spell MSN.
> 
> [Tom’s Subspace Messenger Icon ](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Tom_Paris?file=Captain_Proton.jpg) (Because he is a _total_ dork. And we love him.)
> 
> Seven seen here as [Constance Goodheart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HChlYOhNKlM)
> 
> Jay was drinking a [Samarian sunset](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Samarian_sunset) and now I want one.
> 
> Rihan courtesy of the [wayback machine!](http://web.archive.org/web/20060927153852/http://atrek.org/Dhivael/rihan/engtorihan.html#C) (Thanks Annamelia!) 
> 
> Dhei Vas’khaa is made up but based on some ‘real’ Romulan words:  
>  _Dhei_ / thousand  
>  _Vas'_ / fly, move quickly  
>  _Khaa_ / sand
> 
> Thanks for reading, pop back next week for the dance! ;) New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	8. Everybody Needs Somebody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to beta reader Lintila, who is wondering how she can leave the country and start over; a new life, a better life, one where she won’t ever have to read the word ‘tenderly’ again.
> 
> (CW: Quite a few vivid blood mentions in an abattoir-like environment and a mention of some Borg remains in this one due to the xB processing center on Vergessen. You know the general _unpleasantness_ of the place from Stardust City Rag. We don’t actually see a murder take place but, but screams are heard and well, you know what’s going on. A heads up if you need one x)
> 
>  **Music!**  
>  Now far be it from me to tell you how to enjoy your reading (death of the author and all that, I’ll be in my coffin) but I can say that I’ve not _yet_ had a bad time listening to the tracks while reading. So for those who would enjoy that sort of thing:  
> [Track One.](https://youtu.be/euJ22UqLD5Y) When you reach _“Hit it,_ boys!” in the first La Sirena section.  
> [Track Two.](https://youtu.be/wDvIGZ-_au4) For the band’s second song straight after.  
> [Track Three.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLt2Jx2nvQA) And finally this for the _second_ piano song in the final La Sirena section, starting at “...played the opening bars”
> 
> Like I said - the music’s not necessary, but if you’ve only got the time, the inclination or the cellular-data to play ONE, make it the _last one,_ ok? ;)
> 
> _This chapter is presented with my sincerest apologies to the Blues Brothers, and to Thimblerig for the lack of tango ;)_

Annika looked around their new apartment. Well, new to the two of them at least. The peeling paint and the stubborn, lingering smell of mould was proof enough that it wasn't new.

 _It wasn’t all bad though,_ Annika thought. It was high above the speedways, in the quieter Northern Quarter of Freecloud, meaning that the air filter didn’t need to be on _all_ night. It was on now though. And it rattled.

Annika took a glance out of the window at the holo ads in the distance. Their dancing shapes growing thin and ghostlike against the dawn. She rummaged through some of the moving boxes for a hairbrush. She found a mirror too and propped it up against one of the shipping crates.

Annika ran the brush through her thick hair and, with well practiced ease, began pulling it up into a french twist.

“Maybe, _don’t_ put it up?” Bjayzl’s voice purred from the bed.

“I always wear it up?” Ani replied, turning to the other woman as Jay slid from the sheets. “It’s an efficient arrangement. It keeps it out of my... way.” 

She was a little _distracted_ by the negligee Bjayzl wore, the cream coloured silk moving over the other woman’s olive skin as she wandered over.

“Never too late to mix things up?” Jay smiled and knelt behind Annika on the floor, kissing her shoulder as she loosened the updo, letting the blonde hair fall across her shoulders. Loosening the waves with gentle fingers. 

“Covers those spinal implants too.” She caught her lover’s gaze in the mirror, a soft look in her dark eyes.

“You look so _beautiful,_ Annika.” 

The air filtration system in the ceiling rattled and dripped cold condensation on Bjayzl’s silky top. 

Jay sighed, exasperated, brushing fingers against the mark in frustration.

“I’m sorry about the shitty apartment.” She shuffled out of the way of another drip. “It’s only until I can get the club up and running. And I’ve got my eye on expanding a few other revenue streams too.”  
  
“On top of your Ranger work?”

“Mm-huh,” Jay’s attention was drawn by a sharp beep from the computer over on the desk. The screen read: _DATA TRANSFER COMPLETE._

She walked across the small room and plucked an isolinear chip from the console and dropped it into a waiting envelope, scribbling a quick note before she sealed it shut.

“You’re going into West Dock today, right?” Jay walked back over. “Can you drop this with the courier for me?”

Annika’s eyes scanned across the envelope.

“Who’s Vup?”

“He’s one of the grunts I’ve got lined up for the new bar,” she said simply, “I set him up with some temporary work in the meantime.”

“Anything exciting?” Ani asked, looking round for her jacket.

“Nothing fancy,” Jay shrugged, “just a little used component sourcing. This sector would be less of a dump if we actually _invested_ in some of the tech we have access to, instead of waiting around for Federation handouts.”

Ani smirked in agreement. 

“No argument from me, the Federation’s response has been insufficient to say the least. But remember Jay, you’ve got some technology _here_ that requires your attention too. Korok wants the Ranger’s subspace amplifier servicing done as soon as possible.” Ani pulled on her boots.

 _“And_ the Manheim relay is unresponsive. _Again.”_

Jay waved dismissively, preferring instead to watch Ani get ready. She inserted a new cartridge into her horgl and exhaled a perfect smoke ring that rose like a grey halo above her head, dissipating into the existing grime of the aged ceiling.

Annika headed out, catching her reflection in the tired mirror in the apartment block foyer. She adjusted a strand of hair over her cheek implant.

_She looked great._

* * *

Steward had told the crew he needed a week to prepare for the dance. It was the slowest week Raffi could remember for a long while. Nothing seemed to make it pass faster and, to make matters worse, Seven had become tied up with Picard and Soji’s negotiations regarding the fate of the Artifact. The three of them working long hours, mediating between the powers at play.

The only time she’d managed to speak to Seven was on the day of the dance. She finally managed to intercept her as the xB was on her way to the transporter, en route to beam down to ‘Synthville’.

“Right! Tonight,” Raffi smiled, reaching out to catch Seven’s wrist as she passed by, “I'll pick you up at 1900 hours?”

“The holosuite is across the deck from my quarters, Raffi. I doubt I’ll get lost.”

Raffi grinned with sweet and honest excitement.

“Well sure, but you only get one first date right? And I’m gonna make the most of-” 

The Admiral strode past.

“But Hugh is a Federation citizen,” Picard sighed to Soji. He cut Raffi off and, with a gesture, led the xB away.

“Seven, what do you think?” He questioned.

Seven was swept away, trying to engage with Picard and Soji’s debate. However, she glanced back, still a little speechless, and settled for simply nodding back at Raffi instead. A smile creeping at the corner of her mouth. 

That evening, while the rest of the group waited outside the holodeck for Steward, Rios was on the bridge. Hugh Two watched, tail flicking, as the Captain used his reflection in La Sirena’s main window to attempt to do his bow tie. 

It wasn’t going well. 

Raffi wandered over, her long black dress moving slickly across her figure as she walked. She stroked the little holocat under his chin before reaching out to Cris.

“Come here.” She started fixing her friend’s bow tie. Raffi folded the fabric tabs with practiced hands, Gabe’s dad had attended a lot of black tie events back in the day. She wondered if Gabe had ever figured out how to do _his_ bow tie on his own.

“You look real cute, babe.” Raffi smiled approvingly, affectionately smoothing down the lapels of Cris’ handsome black suit. Neat, dark, mother-of-pearl buttons stood out against Rios’ crisp white shirt. “You don’t scrub up too badly.”

Cris looked down past Raffi’s cropped, gold jacket and raised his eyebrows playfully at his friend’s dress.

“Same to you, though I see you’ve opted for the ‘give-Seven-a-heart-attack’ neckline?”

“And I’m sure you weren’t thinking of Agnes _at all_ when you replicated those trousers _, just a little_ _too tight_.”

They laughed.

“Speaking of which, I’ve gotta go pick up my date!”

“You’re _ridícula,_ Raf!” Rios smirked as his friend turned to leave.

“You love me though!” She called over her shoulder.

Raffi practically skipped across the port deck in excitement, deliberately forcing herself to slow her pace, though she couldn’t help grinning wildly. 

She buzzed the wall console and was nervously adjusting her gold jacket as the door hissed open.

“Punctual.” Seven smiled, “I appreciate it.”

“Couldn’t wait!” Raffi admitted, taking in the sight of her date. The xB’s flawless posture was highlighted by her perfectly tailored black blazer. Upturned, angular white lapels led Raffi’s eye down, past the plunging neckline of Seven’s white shirt, to a small gold chain holding the tux closed. _For now,_ Raffi thought cheekily, blushing.

“The feeling is mutual.” Seven said, the hint of a smile at her lips as she hooked her arm through Raffi's own, leaning across to kiss the soft skin by Raffi’s ear.

Raffi felt her blush intensify.

“Raffi!” Elnor waved, walking past on his way to the holosuite. She was glad of the distraction. _There was a whole evening to get through yet,_ she thought.

The two women crossed the ship with the young Romulan. Elnor’s robes were looser than his usual fare, wrapped intricately about his form but leaving his right arm and shoulder uncovered. A raw-edged swathe of midnight blue linen hung over his left shoulder and billowed behind him as he moved. His bare feet padded noiselessly across the metal floor as they joined the group.

As they arrived at the door to the holosuite Elnor moved to stand next to Hugh, brushing a hand across the smooth, purple silk of his suit jacket. The xB turned and smiled at the younger man’s distinctly Romulan attire, and at the hand that remained comfortably around his waist.

Elnor followed Picard’s curious glance at his feet. 

“An important occasion should be met with bare soles?” The Romulan smiled.

“For a qalankhkai, at least.” 

“An Important Occasion?” The EHH looked like he might burst at the gesture. He pretended to look something up in his folio, in a vain attempt to cover how flustered he felt, as he tried to compose himself with a cough.

“Well, thank you for making an effort everyone! You all look positively _stunning!”_ He gestured to Agnes who wore a blue satin dress that delicately skimmed her pale knees as she stepped closer, arm in arm with Soji. Cris noted happily that the cyberneticist’s backless dress clung in _all_ the right places as she leaned over to compliment Seven on her tux.

Raffi and Cris shared a conspiratorial look that silently said _“Yeah, we did ok for ourselves didn’t we?”_

The intricate beadwork down the front of Soji’s cocktail dress caught the warm tones of La Sirena’s lights as she pointed to the Admiral’s loose shoelace helpfully. Picard leaned down to tie the lace and wipe an imaginary smudge off his shined, black shoes, before standing up and straightening the lapels of his dark, subtly plaid suit.

“Now,” Mister Hospitality turned and with a wave opened the holosuit door, “if you’ll follow me?”

The group stepped off the ship’s deck and into an exquisitely detailed holo programme. The time-worn, deep, red carpet, the noisy bustle of excited patrons, and the gilded _everything,_ placed this as an early Earth dance hall of some kind, or at least the foyer of one.

Cris’ eyes glittered excitedly in instant recognition, “Oh it is _good_ to be back!”

“Back where?” Agnes asked, coming to take his arm.

“I thought you were Starfleet Academy trained?” The Captain asked.

“This is the Academy?” Agnes looked unconvinced. 

“No!” Cris and Raffi scoffed in unison and laughed.

“This is the _Great American Music Hall,_ honey. San Francisco!” Raffi grinned almost as widely as her friend.

Cris ran his hand nostalgically along the smooth brass of the ticket desk.

“Me and the other Red Squadron guys used to sneak over the bay _all the time_ to come dancing!” Rios butted in, “You know _Vic Fontaine_ once played here? I failed my command midterms to go see him. I had to take the catch up exam but _mierda,_ it was worth it for-”

Rios looked suddenly distracted.

“Smell that?” He took a deep breath and grinned. “Synthehol-in-the-carpet smell and _everything.”_

“I think the Captain’s having a turn?” Soji muttered to Agnes, over her shoulder.

“I think maybe he’s happy?” Agnes shrugged and giggled back.

The EHH beamed, preening.

The foyer bustled with well dressed customers, buying drinks, discussing the evening's programme and filtering through to the dance hall.

Steward took another look at Elnor’s bare feet and, with a subtle flick of a finger across his open folio, the EHH de-stickied the floor. _A shame,_ he thought, _he’d been really proud of that attention to detail._

The foyer carpet now looked more plush. He left the smell though. _For authenticity's sake._

Steward looked back up from his folio at the excited crew in front of him. Never being one to resist a little _extra_ flair; he snapped his folder closed and, with the sharp sound, he willed the usual smart-casual attire of his programme into a crisp black suit instead. He needlessly adjusted the already perfect knot of his thin black tie and, reaching over to a wooden hatstand behind him, he plucked a black trilby from the selection. Putting it on with a flourish.

Cris rolled his eyes and was met with a chiding elbow to the ribs from his date. Agnes clapped.

Steward smiled, appreciative of the applause. “Now, shall we?”

The EHH, waved across to the beautiful Bajoran stage tech by the door, who was busy rolling up her sleeves and glaring darkly at the stubbornly flickering ' _welcome'_ sign. The woman swept her long braided over her shoulder and moved to intercept the crew.

“They’re with me.” Steward smiled, “let the band know we go on in 10 will you, Yani?”

The EHH leaned closer to the stage tech to conspiratorially add, “And tell Ian, if he hasn’t finished tinkering with the valves on his saxophone by _then,_ that you’re confiscating his screwdriver, ok? Thanks!”

He clapped the Bajoran warmly on the shoulder and pushed open the big wooden door, holding it aside for the group.

“Welcome!” He ushered them in. “To the pride of San Francisco, _The Great American Music Hall!”_

The crew made their way excitedly inside, taking in the high gilded ceiling. The huge glass orbs of a chandelier cast its warm light down the smooth surface of the marble pillars and across the lacquered wooden floor. Cosy alcoves around the edges of the room were filled with comfy chairs and candlelit tables. Holographic music lovers enjoying drinks and listening to the gentle music of the pre show act. Up on stage Enoch sat at the glossy, black grand piano, playing an easy blues standard at a slick, rolling tempo. He caught Raffi’s eye and waved enthusiastically, before dropping his hand back to the keys with a flourish.

Mister Hospitality beamed at the group’s wide eyed approval as he guided them across the crowded room to a table that said _‘Reserved’._ He noted with poker faced alarm, that Seven seemed to be increasingly distracted by the bustle around her. The EHH looked down at his folio to cover the flash of blue across his eyes, as he checked remotely with Emil if Seven’s response was excitement or stress.

 _She’s not a fan of crowds it seems._ Came Emil’s voice in his mind. _I trust you’ll make accommodations? If you need me I’m backstage tuning up._

The EHH tapped his folio again and subtly lessened the crowd by 25%. Patrons making their excuses and filtering away naturally. Seven’s shoulders began to relax a little and Steward let out a small sigh of relief. _Phew._

“Now, please help yourself to drinks. Ian’s set up a tab for your table, under the name _‘Montgomery’_. Get settled in? Show starts in10.”

The EHH bowed and darted away in the direction of backstage.

Rios and Seven fetched the crew’s drinks and the group were getting into some lively conversation about their respective Academy shenanigans, when the chandelier dimmed slightly and a voice from the stage grandly announced:

_“Please put your hands together and welcome to the stage: Mister Hospitality and The Emergency Holographic Band!”_

The crowd cheered, so did the crew. Enoch played as the other four holos in sharp black suits walked out to join him on stage.

Emmet, drumsticks between his teeth, was already loosening his tie more to his liking. He spotted the logo on his kick drum: _‘Mister Hospitality & The Emergency Holographic Band’. _Emmet rolled his eyes and clipped the side of the drum with his heavy boot on the way past. The logo flicked instead to ‘ **EHB** ’ in bold type.

 _Better,_ he thought.

Emil waved at the audience as he adjusted the shoulder strap of his guitar and Ian only just managed to put his screwdriver away as he walked on stage. He tested the keys of his sax and looked satisfied.

Enoch finished the entrance music with a glissando and waited for his cue from the EHH.

“Welcome everyone! I’m Mister Hospitality and this is the _Emergency Holographic Band._ We’ve got a _swinging_ little number to get you all dancing! So leave your seats, find your dates and, _oh!”_

He paused a moment theatrically.

“- I almost forgot,”

He clicked his fingers and a pair of sunglasses appeared effortlessly between his fingertips. With one smooth movement he shook them open and slid them on. Shiny black plastic easing through his shinier slicked back hair as he turned to the band.

_“Hit it,_ boys!” 

Emil led the band into their opening number. Nimble fingers picking out a rich, bluesy twang as the EHH gave the nod to the stage hands to dim the house lights. 

_“Come on,”_ Steward crooned into the mic. _“Oh baby, don't you wanna go?”_ His foot tapping in perfect time with Emmet’s easy drumbeat. Enoch joined in with a swinging piano melody that flawlessly answered Emil’s guitar.

 _“Come on!”_ Mister Hospitality slid the mic from the stand so he could roam the stage, strutting.

 _“Oh baby, don't you wanna go?”_

Ian’s saxophone blared in answer to Enoch’s riff. The stage lights picked out the polished surface of his saxophone as the keys clacked under his expert command. Ian’s eyes squeezed closed as he leant into the melody. Somehow the woollen hat really _worked_ with the suit.

_“Back to that same old place,”_

Raffi turned to her date, seeing the gold chain that held Seven’s perfectly tailored lapels together, she hooked a finger under it and pulled.

“Watch the suit!” Seven protested, 

“Oh _believe_ me, honey,” Raffi bit her lip, swaying backwards, tugging Seven with her and looking the other woman up and down, “ _I am!”_

 _“Sweet home Chicago!”_ Rios sang along with the band. He theatrically bowed with a wicked grin, offering a hand to Agnes who took it giggling. He whisked her onto the dance floor. Cris’ steady hand, deliciously warm, against her bare back. Rios laughed as the two of them danced past Hugh and his date. Overhearing Elnor protesting.

“Hugh, please stop being concerned that you will step on my feet! I am much, _much_ faster than you!”

Soji accepted the request to dance from a sweet looking Trill, who blushed into their spots as Soji delightedly took their offered hand. The two of them blending into the crowd.

As the opening number drew to a close, Mister Hospitality bowed. Enoch began the bouncing piano riff of their second number, while the EHH addressed the crowd of dancers. 

“We’re so glad to see so many of you lovely people here tonight,” Steward held his arms wide to the crowd.

“And we would _especially_ like to welcome the representative of the _Borg Reclamation Project,_ who has chosen to join us here in the _Great American Music Hall_ at this time!”

Hugh smiled shyly. 

“We do _sincerely_ hope that you all enjoy the show! And please remember, people; that no matter who you are, and what you do to live, thrive and survive,”

The EHH flicked the mic wire to give himself more room to move, the plastic slapping against the wooden floorboards as the wave rolled down the cable.

“There are still some things that make us _all_ the same:”

“You,” Steward gestured fluidly to his crew in the audience.

“Me,” He tipped his black hat suavely.

“Them,” He thumbed over his shoulder to the assembled holoband.

_“Everybody!”_

Emmet flourished his drumsticks across the drum skins and the EHH began to sing.

_“Ev-ery-bod-y needs somebody,”_

Ian swayed side to side with the music. Underlining the EHHs vocals with his crisp, swinging accompaniment.

_“Everybody needs somebody to love!”_

Enoch caught Raffi’s eye and nodded to the Admiral who was sitting alone, still ensconced in a comfy chair to the side of the dance hall. Raffi playfully saluted the holo and made her way through the crowd to her old captain.

“JL! Why aren’t you dancing?” Raffi asked.

“My knees,” Picard protested.

“You’ve got a _synth_ body, Jean Luc, your knees are all in your head,” she chuckled, “or something.”

“Raffi, you know I’m not much of a dancer?”

“JL, I _swear,_ considering you’ve already had a go at _dying_ lately, how about you try _living_ a little?”

The older man sighed, looking wistfully at the dance floor.

“For old times sake?” Raffi smiled kindly down at him, “Soji might appreciate a non-holo dance partner?”

Picard sighed, smiling. “You’re right, of course. As usual, it seems.”

“Nothing new there now, JL!” Raffi chuckled as Picard rose from his seat to join in with the dancing. She wandered back over to Seven, who watched the OPS officer draw closer with obvious interest.

“Seven? You still with me, honey?” Raffi teased, enjoying the attention. 

Seven swallowed, her eyes followed the glittering drop of one of Raffi’s elegant earrings, warm gold against _warmer_ skin. The details of both picked out in the soft candlelight.

“Apologies. I was… _distracted_ there for a moment,” Seven stood a little taller, a relaxed fist behind her back, and offered her other hand to Raffi, “another dance?”

Taking a breather from his ‘exercise’, Hugh watched Seven lead Raffi back to the dance floor. Raffi’s affection for the xB was clear as the implants in his own skin. _His stomach churned as he wondered just how few xB’s ever got the opportunity to take their partner by the hand and lead them to a dance?_

_How many of us?_

_Any more than just us two?_ He wondered. Suddenly feeling selfish and uncaring. As if enjoying himself was at the detriment to his cause. 

“Hugh, you look thoughtful.”

Elnor followed the older man’s gaze to Seven. The Ranger was following her partner’s lead, spinning out along her arm before being drawn back, close against Raffi’s chest.

“You’re wondering if the other xB’s will ever experience this?”

“How did you-?”

“You have a very _open_ heart Hugh, you wear it on your sleeve. You are not exactly difficult to read.”

The two of them watched Raffi dip Seven over her arm, as the current number drew to a close. Hugh smiled as Raffi pulled the other woman back up, Seven laughing happily. Raffi held the side of her face, thumb tracing over the metal on the xBs cheek.

Hugh subconsciously pressed his fingers to the remains of his own implant at his brow. 

The Romulan watched him with quiet interest. His chest tightened with admiration for Hugh’s truly open and honest compassion for his fellow xBs.

Hugh felt a steady hand at the small of his back and turned in surprise.

“Hugh?” Elnor said his expression resolved. “I would very much like to kiss you now. If that is something you would also enjoy?”

“What?” Hugh flushed deeply under Elnor’s intense stare. _The younger man didn’t look like he was joking..._

“Um, yes,” Hugh stammered, feeling flustered, “I really _would_ , come to think of it.”

Elnor looked softy between the xB’s mismatched eyes and Hugh glanced down to try and relieve the rising, self conscious embarrassment that burned his ears. His gaze fell to Elnor’s bare feet before catching his distorted reflection in his own highly polished shoes.

“Hang on,” Hugh steadied himself with a hand against Elnor’s chest and hurriedly tugged at the thin laces of his dress shoes, kicking them off just as soon as they were loose. He paused another thoughtful beat and pulled off his socks too. His foot clicked as he put it back down on the ground, tritanium plating in his heel making contact with the floor. He’d lost another half inch in height by the time he looked back up at the Romulan with hopeful eyes.

“An Important Occasion should be met with bare soles, right?” Hugh smiled self-consciously, “Does a first kiss count?”

Elnor’s brows rose in happy surprise.

“I believe it does.” He said, smiling broadly.

“And if it does not?” Elnor continued as he cupped Hugh’s face in his palm, tenderly running a thumb over the other man’s scarred cheek. “Then I believe, with _you,_ it _should.”_

The gentle light of the chandelier caught the traces of Hugh’s implants as he lessened the distance between their lips, his eyes fluttering closed.

* * *

The strip-lights flickered in the low ceiling of the hallway, picking out the stern looking features of the Bolian as she asked for confirmation of Mr. Vup’s name. She tapped something on her PADD and handed over the envelope. 

“Have a nice day.” She said, her weathered blue face not giving any indication that she knew what one was.

The muted, gagged screams from behind Vup caused him to pull the door further closed, he looked sheepish.

 _Not my circus_ , the Bolian thought, turning to leave, _not my monkeys._

Vup grunted and roughly tore open the envelope. The note read:

_"Happy first day in the new facility!_

_Please find enclosed the files you requested._

_Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do._

_Have fun._

_J."_

An isolinear chip fell out into his wide palm.

Vup grinned, his tiny sunken eyes lighting up. He stepped back inside, pushed the heavy metal door closed and drew across both thick deadbolts.

Vup crossed the concrete floor. His bare, clawed feet slapping on the blood-wet surface. He stopped to enjoy the delicious, tangy scent of a particularly deep puddle, before slotting the new chip into the aged computer bank.

Next to him a grey haired Bajoran xB struggled frantically against the manacles that held him to the metal table.

“Yes, yes,” Vup waved dismissively at him, “we’re _getting_ to it.”

He uploaded the content of the chip into the computer. The clumsy patchwork of vintage Starfleet readouts beeped discordantly to show completion of the task. 

“Computer?” Vup questioned hopefully, “Play recording Vup-Beta-2?”

A tinny speaker next to the main computer bank croaked into life with an enthusiastic, striding bass and brass melody. 

Vup tapped his foot along with the beat, grit and gore splashing at the bottom of his trousers as he puffed out his chest with delight. Strutting rhythmically back over to the dissection table he poked through a filthy tray of electric tools. _This was a day for his favourite,_ he thought.

As the recording's vocals kicked in Vup joined along, his deep voice growling, “I’m so glad to see so many of you lovely people here tonight.”

The Bajoran whimpered in terror as Vup reached over and patted him on the shoulder with a heavy, clawed hand.

“I’d especially like to welcome all the representatives of the Hypatia ex-Borg community who have chosen to join us here in the Seven Domes facility at this time.”

The xB’s mismatched eyes darted across to the unconscious body of another Bajoran on the opposite bed. Her head to one side, a delicate gold engagement earring tangled in her filthy hair.

Vup stood between the two beds and bowed theatrically. “I do sincerely hope you all enjoy the show. And please remember people, that no matter that no matter who you are, and what you do to live, thrive and survive…”

The Beta Annari clicked the button on the electric blade.

Nothing happened.

The Bajoran’s eyes rolled back in his head with relief.

Vup smacked the power pack of the tool of his broad forehead and it spluttered into life. He smiled.

“There are still some things that make us all the same,” he leaned in close to the xB, rotten breath filling the Bajoran’s nose.

“You” Vup held the vibrating teeth of the blade dangerously close to the older man’s throat.

“Me” He gestured to himself, grinning.

“Them.” Vup thumbed over his shoulder at the dismembered xB remains hanging from hooks by the buzzing sodium bulbs.

Vup took a deep breath, the building _rush_ of wild confusion and violent terror in the xB smelled _exquisite_. He clicked the blade onto a faster setting.

 _“Ev-ery-bod-y, needs somebody,”_ Vup sang enthusiastically over the top of the screaming.

“Everybody _wants_ somebody!”

Outside of the door the Bolian postal worker listened to the discordant blend of deep voiced singing and wet, strangled screams, before deciding that forging a signature for the delivery might be the safer option after all.

She turned to leave again trying not to hear the disturbing sounds from inside the locked room.

_“Everybody wants somebody to love!”_

The screams grew more distant as she walked away.

* * *

Raffi walked back from saying goodnight to Cris. The soft edges of her friend’s bow tie, long since loosened, tickled the face of the sleepy cyberneticist he held in his arms. The holo-audience was gone too and only herself, Seven and Mister Hospitality remained in the now echoing and empty dancehall. 

“Steward, this was amazing!” She patted the EHH on the back, “You outdid yourself!”

“Why _thank you,_ Raffi! Although given the breadth and significant _depth_ of my hospitality subroutines, I think perhaps,” he paused and his eyes flashed blue static as he consulted La Sirena’s data banks.

“I merely _‘did myself’?”_ He said, voice tinged with pride. 

He eyed Seven walking over to the piano and decided to make himself scarce. Reaching into his perfectly tailored blazer, he drew out a small ring of keys and tossed them to Raffi.

“Turn the lights off and lock up when you’re done with your recital?”

The EHH nodded to the stage where Seven had slipped out of her jacket, folding it on the piano stool next to her as she sat down. Raffi could see the diffuse floor lights of the stage gleam brightly for a second against a patch of tritanium on the xBs upper arm, as the other woman played a perfect, rolling, minor arpeggio.

Raffi was speechless.

She turned back to Steward who raised his eyebrows and smiled back.

“You kids have fun.” He smiled, turning to leave, his body glittering into nothingness as he deactivated his programme.

 _A job well done,_ he thought as his consciousness flowed back into La Sirena. _I did ok._

Raffi watched the holo fade, the familiar details of the room bleeding through where his body vanished. She looked around at the old dance hall.

 _So familiar,_ she thought. _It was strange to think she and Cris had gone through the very same rights of passage here. Sneaking out of the Academy to dance the night away in the arms of one well-meaning mistake or another. Years apart of course, but still._

_She felt grateful for her friend, he’d be tucking Agnes into bed by now. The sweetheart._

She looked down at the shoulders of her jacket. The angular gold design against her black dress looked, if only for a moment, like her Starfleet uniform.

_How old had she been when she was last here? In this hall, in San Francisco? A fresh faced cadet? Just a kid really._

_Before everything had slipped away._

_Before everything went so badly wrong._

She sighed, and stroked her neck, listening to the minor strains of rising and falling scales coming from the beautiful pianist up on stage.

 _Well,_ she conceded, _maybe not everything._

Shaking off nostalgia like a heavy overcoat, she crossed the empty dance floor towards her date. Heels rapping against the metal edged stairs as she made her way on stage. Seven looked up and smiled before returning her attention to the keys.

Raffi leaned against the grand piano, watching how the xBs body swayed almost imperceptibly with the sound. 

“Hang on,” she grinned, “I've always wanted to do this!” She kicked off her heels and pushed herself up onto the lid of the piano, giggling.

Seven watched the other woman’s strong, lean arms move with the slight effort and filed _that_ image away for later. Raffi lay on her side on the piano, looking out across the now empty dance hall. Seven’s eyes wandered from her hair, to her shoulders to her, well, _It really was a very plunging neckline..._

“Ok, warm ups done!” Raffi turned back to Seven and nodded at the keys. “What’s your first song?”

“I haven’t played properly in a long time.”

“Well I haven't played _ever,_ honey, so I won’t be able to tell.”

Seven spread her fingers over the keys and thought back to the last time she’d played for someone. _It really had been a while._

Raffi lay on her back, relaxed hands behind her head, looking up at the extravagantly moulded red and gold plaster work of the ceiling. The grand chandelier, dimmed, its orb-like glass shades looked almost like a star system to Raffi as she closed her eyes. She planted a heel against the lid, the cool surface, soothing relief against her tired feet. Raffi listened as Seven began to play. A strong, sad, lilting melody that Raffi felt humming through the lid of the grand piano and into her back.

The OPS officer’s eyes roamed over the gilded private theatre boxes that ran the length of the room. She wondered how many people had watched this piano being played. Wondered how many people had _felt_ this piano being played. She ran the back of her hand idly across the smooth surface as the song reached its echoing final chord.

“It’s beautiful.” Raffi sighed, rolling on to her stomach to look at Seven over the empty music stand “but it’s so _sad.”_

“I hadn’t noticed?” Seven admitted.

“What’s the _sweetest_ song you know?” Raffi leaned on her elbows, her bright smile reflected in the glossy surface of the piano.

Seven cocked her head in thought.

“Pachelbel's Canon in D Major, from Earth in the late 1600’s.”

“Never heard of it?”

“A simple enough training piece, but an emotive one.”

“Play it for me?” Raffi asked simply.

Seven lay her fingers against the keys with a soft tap from her augmented hand. She hadn’t played this one since Voyager, and even then she had only played it on the holodeck. The physical parameters filter set so that her fingers didn’t rap so jarringly against the keys. 

_No filter here,_ she thought apprehensively. _And such a quiet song too, the sound will be conspicuous._ She met Raffi’s gaze. _But Raffi looked so softly expectant and..._

Seven began the opening bars, the fingertips of her right hand gliding across the keys silently, left hand clicking gently, the keystrokes their own metronome.

Raffi eased herself down from the piano and moved to stand behind Seven. The worn floorboards of the stage smooth against her bare feet. Seven’s foot moved against the sustain pedal to hold a note in the air just long enough for her to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. A small, metal star-burst caught the light against the xB’s jaw as Raffi walked past.

 _She’d look amazing with her hair up,_ Raffi thought idly.

 _As if she doesn’t already,_ she corrected herself, taking in how the lowered house lights caught against the edges of the other woman’s body. The way the warm uplights on the stage made the strands of hair behind her ear look like gold against her skin.

Raffi lightly rested her hands on Seven’s shoulders a moment, watching Seven’s hands move steadily across the keys, before brushing her loose blonde waves to one side. 

The music slowed.

“Hey,” Raffi smiled against Seven’s ear, “keep playing?”

Seven nodded softly as Raffi lightly ran the back of her knuckles across the gentle curve of the xB’s shoulder. Her sleeveless blouse was like gossamer under Raffi's hand. The OPS officer’s eyes lowered to the dark grey seam of tritanium that began at the base of the other woman’s neck and widened like a ragged faultline down her back, opening into a green tinged open port just between her shoulders, and disappearing under the soft cloth of her shirt.

Raffi’s hand hovered above the metal. The pain seemed to radiate out. _Lost years, lost personhood, lost… Raffi couldn’t even imagine what else._

Gentle music swelled around them, rolling effortlessly from the stage and lapping at the corners of the empty dance hall.

_Just how much pain? And for how long?_

_And just how steadfast a soul must you have to possess to go through it all and come out like this?_

_Someone one who helps others without asking for anything in return. Someone who dives headlong into danger. Who would do it again at a moment's notice. Who would risk her own life if it meant saving another?_

_How do you go through so much,_ thought Raffi, _and come out so kind?_

Raffi’s hand still hung above Seven’s back, she could feel the warmth of the other woman’s skin in the sliver of air between Seven’s body and her own. 

A small green light pulsed inside the edge of the exposed port. 

_Could be her heartbeat?_ Raffi thought. _Or the music? It was hard to tell the difference anymore._

“Can I touch you here?” Raffi asked, hesitantly.

Seven’s answer; a soft exhale and a gentle nod.

Seven’s eyes drifted closed, hands still moving across the keys. She sighed. The tempo faltered and Seven tried to correct.

“Slow is fine.” Raffi breathed against the other woman’s neck.

“Slow,” She whispered in between sweet, lingering kisses, “is _better.”_

Seven played.

And breathed.

And played.

Until she wasn’t playing anymore and her hands were lost instead in Raffi’s hair. Her shallow breath found close against the other woman’s smile. 

Raffi broke away, a reverent hand running down Seven’s shoulder and across her arm, thumb sliding over warm skin and warmer metal. 

Raffi’s heart _ached_ with compassion, and sadness, and a desperate yearning _need_ that felt almost unbearable.

Seven looked uncertain, “Do you wan-”

“Yes.” Interrupted Raffi.

Seven raised an eyebrow, uncertainty fading at Raffi’s certain tone.

“Your place or mine?”

Raffi hooked a finger through the buttons of Seven’s shirt. Easily thumbing one open, while looking casually around the empty dance hall and over at the ring of keys on the piano.

“I always wanted to go backstage after one of these things.” Raffi mused aloud, before feeling Seven’s hand brush against her own. Surprised to see the xB efficiently loosening the rest of the buttons of her own shirt.

“Computer?” Seven said to the empty air, turning her attention to the gold belt cinching Raffi’s gown.

“Lock the holosuite door.”

Raffi thought for a second and smiled before adding,

“And display _‘Maintenance Code C’.”_

“So,” She turned back to Seven, _“where were we?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yani the Bajoran engineer/(and here) holo stage-tech was borrowed from Spinifex’s [Facing The Unknown.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23729638/chapters/56984629) The only OC to ever steal my heart like a canon character!
> 
> Many thanks to the ever patient [Speedtrials](https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedtrials/pseuds/speedtrials) for truly outstanding work as chief wardrobe consultant! (It’s a hard life sometimes :p)
> 
>  **For those interested here’s what the crew’s outfits were based on:**  
>  Raffi wore something like [this Givenchy awesomeness.](https://assets.rbl.ms/18677533/origin.jpg) Does it even really count as a ‘neckline’ if it ends closer to the navel? ;) A look I love as it’s not TOO dissimilar to her [Starfleet Gold](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Raffaela_Musiker?file=Raffi_in_uniform%2C_2385.jpg) (I’m not crying, you’re crying.)  
> Seven wore a [2012 Gucci tux.](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b2/c8/f3/b2c8f30e6febc2fcfccb80453e926e59.jpg) (I am a simple fan with simple pleasures.)  
> The Holosquad wore suits alla [The Blues Brothers!](https://images.thestar.com/K21Pp66GI9WUXePDGVh48K1MaPk=/605x700/smart/filters:cb\(1561049555843\)/https://www.thestar.com/content/dam/thestar/entertainment/2019/06/20/dan-aykroyd-pays-tribute-to-downchild-blues-band/blues_brothers.jpg)  
> Elnor’s robe is somewhere between Buddhist Kasaya/robes and TOS era Romulan garb.  
> [Picard’s suit.](https://intl.startrek.com/gallery/star-trek-picard-takes-over-london/patrick-stewart-attends-the-star-trek-picard-uk-premiere-704)  
> [Soji’s champagne dress,](https://intl.startrek.com/gallery/star-trek-picard-takes-over-london/isa-briones-attends-the-star-trek-picard-uk-premiere-722) though shorter because dancing!  
> [Hugh’s purple blazer.](https://intl.startrek.com/gallery/star-trek-picard-takes-over-london/patrick-stewart-jeri-ryan-and-jonathan-del-arco-attend-the-star-trek-picard-uk-premiere-711) JDA has style though?!  
> [Agnes’ blue dress.](https://www3.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Alison+Pill+Snowpiercer+Premiere+LA+ufggmLt__8kl.jpg)  
> [Cris’ suit and bow tie,](https://cdn.bgfashion.net/most-stylish-men/thumbs/Chilean-actor-Santiago-Cabrera.jpg) and [ bonus SC with loosened tie.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/497973e3de402d9fc982b2bd54027718/tumblr_ot2lb8KM1m1qemjzlo2_250.gifv)
> 
> Spanish by the ever dubious Google Translate:  
>  _Ridícula_ / ridiculous  
>  _Mierda_ / fuck
> 
> [The Great American Music Hall](https://www.cool-cities.com/great-american-music-hall-14190/) is a real venue in San Francisco, and so striking. Though the details are fictional as I've never been!
> 
>  **The featured songs in this chapter were:**  
> [Sweet Home Chicago](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=euJ22UqLD5Y&feature=youtu.be) \- The Blues Brothers  
> [Everybody Needs Somebody to Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wDvIGZ-_au4&feature=youtu.be) \- The Blues Brothers  
> [Seven plays Chopin's Nocturne](https://youtu.be/DqEjNLLvb7Y) from the heartbreaking Voyager episode Human Error, and the first song she played for Raffi in this chapter.  
> [Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLt2Jx2nvQA) performed by Valentina Lisitsa. So slow and gentle, like Raffi :’)
> 
> Thanks for reading! New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	9. I Can't Help It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to beta reader Lintila, who's responsible for the grammar and is absolutely washing her hands of the content.
> 
> (CW: Some discussion of Seven/Annika’s discomfort with her xB body, which I think is perhaps light enough to not be an issue, but just incase this is a heads up if you need one x)

Outside of the high, sidewalk level windows of the backstage green-room, the trees rustled in the quiet San Francisco night.

The trees, the wind and steady, quiet starlight all _equally_ illusionary. Nothing but light and shadow, mapped out with algorithmic certainty by La Sirena’s bio-neural systems. Seven had been awake long enough now to spot when the holo-programme looped. The xB watched as the same pattern of shifting, dappled light, repeated for the ninth time. 

Just as mesmerised as first, not because of the light but because of what it fell so softly against.

Seven watched the way the moonlight moved like a whisper across the curve of Raffi’s sleeping smile.

Watched how the dappled light that broke through the trees, tried to piece itself together across the smooth plane of her back, but couldn’t bring itself to. As if even the imitation moonlight knew it _didn’t deserve_ to move against her perfect skin.

 _Maybe she didn’t either,_ Seven thought. _But here they were._

Seven carefully shifted on the foldout sofa bed, aged springs protesting, as she wound herself closer against Raffi’s sleeping frame. Smiling at the way the loose edges of Raffi’s hair looked like a silvered halo as the light changed, shifting in the quiet night.

She’d watched the room itself change too. Subtly, and slowly. The bricks didn’t seem as tired and the polished wood of the floor reflected the soft folds of Raffi’s discarded dress.

 _Presumably,_ she thought, _La Sirena’s Hospitality Hologram is cleaning house._

It would have been a convincing ruse too, if Seven didn’t have a photographic memory. She _knew_ that the arm of the foldout sofa the two of them were currently curled on, had started the night with a cigarette burn. The mark was gone now, and with it the distant nicotine smell that had clung to the cushions. Not that she’d been particularly concerned about either detail when the OPS officer had urged her down against them. The battered leather cushions had been cold against her back. Raffi’s mouth hot against her skin.

Still sleeping, Raffi nuzzled closer, hooking her smooth leg across Seven’s. This time the springs _didn’t_ squeak. Come to think of it, those flowers in a thin vase on the desk _definitely_ hadn’t been there last night either.

 _That Hospitality Hologram was considerate,_ Seven thought, _even if he was a little obvious._

Seven looked at the flowers, the apple blossom stirring a long distant memory of her Aunt’s farm. The thought felt like it belonged to someone else as she remembered her small hands, tritanium free, pulling herself up through the branches. Annika's snagged pink dress and scratched knees and a view of the garden that had been worth the climb. Seven’s thoughts jumbled with how the woody stem in the vase threw out delicate buds in prime numbered clusters, and how that felt calming somehow too. She smiled and considered the other flower. It looked soft and it’s fragile clusters of pink and orange blossoms sheltered around the base of other cuttings. She didn’t recognise the species...

...and then, _she did._

With familiar, disquieting stillness she felt someone else’s memory become her own. It was a Bajoran Lilac and she _knew_ it grew on dry, red northern cliffs. She remembered how you could hold it under another’s chin to see if they loved you, watching to see if they blushed the colour of the petals. Remembered also how someone’s hallway had always smelled of them in summer. How the warm colour matched the warm terracotta tiles and how delicately crisp the petals felt in a cupped hand when they had dropped from the stem.

 _Three of Nine had been Bajoran,_ Seven thought, distantly.

_It might have been her memory. It might have been any of them._

The chances of it being Three’s were one in billions. Their shared Unimatrix, just one system amid the seeming infinity of the Collective. But _someone_ had known how to identify that flower from a loved patchwork of their memories. Seven added it to her own. Not every cortical implant delivered memory was as gentle. 

Perfect recall was a ‘Gift of the Collective’ and one that provided a long list of memories to consider.

Every violent end. Every broken moment. Every person she’d assimilated. Every person she’d failed. Every vivid second of heartbreak or helplessness. Every mistake, every misstep. Catalogued and categorised into a litany of failures that played on _repeat_ during nights like this when she couldn’t sleep.

Only, there hadn’t been any nights like this before.

Not with Raffi. _Not like this._

And in the still churning wake of so much recent pain, Seven was going to make _this_ memory take up as much room as she could allow.

Seven had turned from the thought of the flowers and let her fingertips move across the petal-soft length of Raffi’s back. Counting freckles and noting the way Raffi’s nose wrinkled as she yawned in her sleep.

Seven hadn’t been sure who ‘Gabe’ was, but she’d watched Raffi’s hands curl into loose, shaking fists against her face at his murmured name. She smoothed her hair and stroked her back until the other woman had fallen into a deeper sleep.

By the time the repeating night cycle had ended and a holographic sunrise slid through the windows, Seven could describe the way _fifteen different_ constellations spanned across Raffi’s skin. Her perfect recollection of every star chart she’d ever studied, seen draped over the other woman’s bare shoulders like the bed sheet across her hips. She could compare the echoing distances of empty space, against the brief time it took to trace a gentle path with her forefinger, from one of Raffi’s birthmarks to the next.

By morning Seven knew how many breaths Raffi took in an hour. Knew, by heart, the feeling of the other woman’s smile against her skin.

By the time Raffi’s deep brown eyes had opened to meet Seven’s studious gaze, the Ranger already felt like she was coming home.

“You just watching me sleep there, babe?” Raffi grinned, drowsily.

“I am.” The xB said, her tone flecked through with honest admiration.

“You’re so beautiful,” Seven murmured, leaning into a kiss. “I can’t help it.”

* * *

Annika’s stomach felt tight as Bjayzl’s gaze hardened.

“I can’t help it,” Jay huffed, pushing herself up on her crisp pillow away from the xB, “if I think they’re disgusting.” 

Annika’s cheeks flushed with shame and disappointment. She worried at her shirt buttons with nervous fingers.

Bjayzl continued, “I mean _clearly they are,_ or the Doctor wouldn’t have tried to remove as much.” 

Bjayzl turned to the nightstand and picked up her horgl. Breathing deeply something that smelled cloyingly, artificially sweet.

“Just keep your shirt on like normal, ok? And we can _both_ pretend they’re not there.” She shuddered. “Those... _things!”_

Annika pulled her shirt tighter around herself. Embarrassed. Hurt. 

“Maybe we can get you a personal holo emitter. Jay mused spinning the horgl deftly. “Would you like that? A skin overlay one? I’ve seen them advertised.”

_Ani had felt sure it would be ok, Jay had seemed fine with her hand implants for a while now and always being in bed with a shirt on was uncomfortable and..._

Her thoughts interrupted by Jay’s excited babbling.

“They’re expensive of course, but nothing’s too much for _my Ani.”_

Annika sat up, swinging her legs out of bed.

“Something I said?” Jay asked, words flowing out with a cloud of sickly sweet smoke.

“I just need some air.”

She pulled on soft shorts and buttoned her shirt as she walked towards the glass door.

Her bones felt heavy, tired.

She stepped out onto the cold balcony. A slim sliver of Borg implant on her foot clicked on the metal grating as she walked barefoot to lean on the railing. The strobing, neon adverts of Freecloud painting her white shirt pink, then orange then green.

 _At least she had someone?_ She thought. _That was better than nothing, right?_

_So why did this feel so wrong?_

* * *

“Feels so nice,” Raffi murmured, running her hand along Seven’s waist.

 _“Smooth.”_ She continued, stating the obvious. As if doing so would convince her this was really happening.

Lying on her stomach, she traced her fingers along the stubs of metal implants that broke through Seven’s skin around her sides. Her fingers moving carefully across alternating patches of skin and metal. The pools of tritanium were warmer than the skin around it but the texture was so different.

_Raffi still couldn’t quite believe she was in the position to find out._

She could feel Seven watching her intently and felt a wave of self consciousness hit her.

“Sorry, you’ve probably heard all this before.”

Raffi turned to look at the xB, enjoying the look of curiosity on Seven’s face as she cocked that _goddamn_ eye brow.

 _Fuck,_ she thought, self consciousness melting away, _It did things to her._

She shifted closer. Tumbling curls framing her face, tickling Seven’s skin as she moved leaving soft kisses along the xB’s stomach moving upwards.

Raffi paused when she reached metal.

“It’s ok, you can go round it.” Seven said, dismissively.

“What?” Raffi frowned, confused for a moment. “No, I was just worried you’d not be ok with me...can I kiss you here?” 

“If you _want_ to?” Seven felt her heart skip a beat. She wasn’t expecting that, _this was different._

 _“Want,”_ Raffi flashed her eyebrows mischievously and grinned.

Raffi ran a thumb along the remaining, scarred edge of the partially removed implants and followed the touch with a leisurely line of kisses.

She tenderly placed a hand to the small of Seven’s back, feeling both skin and metal against her palm.

Seven’s eyes fluttered closed, this was new. Her implants began trickling sensory information in a way they hadn’t before: Raffi’s hair brushing past, lips, warm and lingering. Seven shifted slightly under the other woman, a gentle sigh breaking past her lips.

Raffi was _delighted_ with her handwork. 

Seven’s metal laced hand rose intending to pull Raffi closer, before it seemed as if the xB thought better of it and used her right hand instead. 

_Raffi never could resist noticing a pattern._ And this one concerned her. _It had been the same last night too..._

“Why not _that_ hand?” She asked, her voice low and cautious.

“What makes you say-“ Seven began.

“I notice things.” Raffi interrupted with a slight shrug.

“I think you’re just about the most confident person I’ve even met,” Raffi smiled and moved a hand to cradle the other woman’s neck. “But not about these?” 

Her curious gaze lifted to Seven’s brow and with a gentle touch against the other woman’s chin, Raffi turned the xB’s head to the side. Affording the OPS officer a better look at the implant nestled at the edge of her jaw.

 _Some kind of bolt, perhaps?_ Raffi wasn’t sure of it’s purpose as she considered the metal points easing back down through the skin. Tapering implants radiating out in perfect symmetry from a point by her ear.

 _Like a flower,_ Raffi smiled, as she absentmindedly traced its outline delicately with a fingertip, one tritanium petal at a time. 

_She loves me. She loves me not. Loves me. Loves me not. She…_

“I,” Seven started and wasn’t sure how to continue. The softly adoring look on Raffi’s face momentarily taking her breath and her words away.

“I was with someone, years ago, who didn’t want to touch the,” Seven paused, remembering Jay’s words, “the _‘parts that weren’t me’.”_

“Didn’t want to-?” Raffi trailed off, incredulous.

“Seven, I can’t believe I’m _allowed_ to be like this with you” She shook her head in disbelief. “I mean you’re _gorgeous._ You do know that, right?”

Seven nodded neatly, “My body does conform to several different cultures' views of physical beauty. In particular Species 262-“

“Seven,” Raffi chuckled, “how do you even know two hundred and sixty two species worth of attractiveness and-”

“Eidetic memory.” Seven answered.

“Hey, I wasn’t done!” Raffi protested, chuckling. “I was trying to say how do you know two hundred and sixty something species worth of attractiveness and not the sheer, blindingly obvious.”

She kissed Seven’s neck.

 _For emphasis,_ Raffi thought, smiling at the gentle scent of the other woman’s hair. 

“Y’know, _you’re_ allowed to think you’re hot, right honey?”

The xB looked sceptical.

“Unconvinced? Fine. Let’s review shall we?” Raffi said decisively. Lifting up the thin sheet covering the two of them. Pausing a moment with a look of scholarly severity across her features.

“Yup. Can confirm.” Raffi said, looking back to Seven. “Still gorgeous.”

She watched Seven laugh, _god it felt good to make her laugh._ She looked so carefree, eyebrows arching upwards, that beautiful smile. 

_She never wanted to make her feel any other way._

_Well... maybe just a few other ways._ She grinned.

“And y’know seeing how I’m _not_ blessed with photographic recall,” she ghosted her fingertips playfully across Seven’s hip. “Perhaps I better just... _refresh my memory,”_

Seven cocked her head with interest.

“You never know, I might have missed something?” Raffi bit her tongue cheekily and darted under the covers as Seven laughed.

A sudden, firm knock at the door made them both jump.

“Shall I-” Seven shifted.

“Mm-ignore it.” Raffi mumbled, words muffled by the supple skin above Seven’s knee.

“If you insist?” 

“I _do.”_ Raffi sighed gently, her smile soft against Seven’s leg. Breath warm in the muted morning light below the sheet.

She lingeringly kissed inside the xB’s knee.

“I,” She began, “Very much,” She eased herself higher as she kissed Seven’s thigh. _“Insist.”_

Raffi ran a sure hand under the back of Seven’s thigh, gently easing her leg up. The metal of the xB’s sole, smooth against the rumpled sheet.

The rapping on the door continued, insistently.

“Ms. Musiker?” The Emergency Hospitality Hologram’s voice was muffled through the door.

“So sorry to disturb you. It’s rather important.”

Raffi huffed. _Typical._

“Ok, ok, coming.” She sighed. Giving a last, slightly regretful kiss to Seven's thigh and making a mental note to resume her memory test later.

With a frustrated groan Raffi hauled herself off the foldout bed, reaching for her dress. She changed her mind, leaning further to steal Seven’s shirt from the floor. The xB shifted to sit on the side of the bed, eyebrow raised as she watched Raffi.

Appreciating the attention, Raffi slowed her movements. She stretched luxuriously as she slid the soft shirt on and caressed down her stomach as she fastened buttons. She allowed her hands to stroke softly along the hem, where it rested against her upper thigh. The glint in Seven’s eyes told her the show had been appreciated. She could get very used to seeing _that_ smile on Seven’s lips. She wavered, desperately tempted to climb into Seven’s lap.

“Ms. Musiker?” The EHH knocked at the door again.

“Fine. Yes. Coming!” Raffi threw her hands up in exasperation. Hopping slightly as she wiggled into Seven’s black trousers and made her way across the room.

Raffi pulled open the door a crack. Jumping in shock as she found herself face to face with Steward, who leaned close to the frame.

“Did you like the flowers?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

“Oh please, _please_ tell me that wasn’t all you came to ask?” Raffi sighed.

“No, admittedly not. But I am curious however,” He looked at his folio thoughtfully. “The logs said you replicated some for your room once and I thought that-”

“Y’know for a alleged Hospitality Hologram,” Raffi interrupted impatiently, glancing back to Seven before pinching her brow, “you are _not_ letting me be very _hospitable_ here?”

“So sorry Raffi, I certainly wouldn’t disturb you for no reason. However we’ve just received a priority subspace transmission for you.”

Raffi looked up, suddenly curious.

“Who is it? Why not just patch it through here?”

“I tried that tack already. The hail request states it’s a private matter and they’re willing to wait for a private link.” The EHH scrolled through information in his folio, before looking back up to Raffi.

“I’ve searched La Sirena’s data banks but there’s no record of the individual I’m afraid. There’s so _little_ information in fact I’m actually rather suspicious. I honestly didn’t want to bother you, but well, they're still waiting. I’ve taken the liberty of patching it through to your quarters.”

“Patching who through, exactly?”

_"Name of G. Hwang?”_

Raffi’s stomach fell. She felt faint. Sick. 

_Why was he calling?_

Heart racing, she didn’t reply as she pushed her way past the EHH and ran barefoot through the backstage corridors and back across the stage. 

_Had he changed his mind?_

She almost stumbled over her discarded heels from the night before. Her bare feet flying across the thread-bare carpet of the foyer. 

_Oh god, had something happened?_

"Computer, unlock holosuite door." Raffi barked, her hands shaking.

 _“Maintenance Code C currently in operation.”_ The computer replied dispassionately. 

“Open it!” She could feel her voice catching.

_“Please confirm Maintenance Code cancelation.”_

“Yes. _Whatever._ Cancel. _Please.”_ She begged.

She pressed her head against the console as the maintenance cycle wound down. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears. Fear and desperate, tantalising _hope_ washing over her.

The door hissed open and she charged toward her quarters.  
  
Cold deck clanging underfoot.

Only one thing on her mind.

_Gabe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A return to a the regular chapter length this week, due to my brain deciding to take multiple trips to migraine town. Sigh!
> 
> I'm not sure where [Irene Hansen's](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Irene_Hansen) farm was on Earth so I may be taking liberties saying there was an apple tree.
> 
> Steward's apple blossom arrangement inspired by [ Divided](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22638796) by Thimblerig.
> 
> [Bajoran lilacs](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Bajoran_lilac) were Kira Nerys' mother's favourite flowers, which has nothing to do with this plot per say, but it does give me _the feels_ so I thought I'd share!
> 
> [Three of Nine](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Marika_Wilkarah) or Marika Wilkarah, though Bajoran, had never visited Bajor for herself. And I honestly can't decide if that makes Seven's thought's on the lilacs better or worse. It may do both.
> 
> Thanks for reading! New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	10. Past Is Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Beta reader Lintila, who’s currently advancing the field of time travel in order to stop herself from agreeing to read any of this.
> 
> (CW: A passing allusion to Raffi’s alcoholism here as well as her fraught relationship with Gabe, a heads up if you need one x)

Rios groaned and pushed the heels of his palms against his brow. Stars swirled in the darkness behind his eyelids in time with the steady, painful thump of his pulse against his skull.

 _He’d had worse hangovers,_ he thought. _Though right now that wasn’t much of a comfort._

The aggressively bright holo display that hung around his head chirped loudly as a subspace communication request arrived.

 _“No.”_ Rios hissed. _“Shh.”_ He cracked open an eye and squinted angrily at the offensively glowing orange text.

_“Priority Subspace Communication Request._

_Recipient: R. Musiker._

_Sender: G. Hwang._

_Location: <Redacted> _

_Signal Source: Stardust City, Freecloud._

_Carrier: Manheim Subspace Network._

_Specifications: Sender willing to wait for a private link.”_

Cris groaned again. He didn’t recognise the sender but he _knew_ Raffi wasn’t going to be happy about being disturbed.

 _Well, he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to drag Raffi off the holodeck,_ he chuckled to himself. _Not since she’d been in there all night with Seven._

He remembered _‘Maintenance Code C’_ well from his academy days and Raffi clearly didn’t want to be interrupted. The Hospitality Horror could take that hit instead.

With a deft flick he transferred the comms request to helm control before whispering. “Computer, activate ENH and EHH.”

“Well _good morning,_ Captain!” The Emergency Navigation hologram enthused loudly, as he shimmered into place at the helm, spinning the chair around to face Rios.

 _“Shh. I'll take ‘quiet morning’.”_ Rios slid lower in the captain's chair and sighed.

“Feeling a little under the weather this morning, are we?” He continued, beaming, his bright tone unchanged. Enoch looked at the communication request. “And what do you want me to do with this exactly?” 

“Nothing, that's for the EHH.” Cris muttered, before realising the _maldito_ holo was not present. “What's the hold up?”

“Oh, I think he’s just remotely fixing up the holo greenroom for Raffi.” Enoch smiled cheerfully. “Something about wanting it to be nice for them waking up.”

“He’s doing _what now?”_ Rios sat upright in annoyance and regretted it, his head _throbbed_ in protest. “Is he actually aware _who_ the Captain is on this ship?”

Rios clutched his head as he stood up. 

_"Do_ you know who the Captain is?” He said to the empty air.

“I said ‘activate the EHH’, _that’s you,_ and I _know_ you can hear me!”

“You know,” Agnes’ voice rang up from the lower deck, “maybe if you were polite to him once in a while he’d do what you ask?”

Cris glowered, there was still no response from the holo. Grumbling, he fished a cigar out of one pocket and his steel clipper out of another. He nipped the end of the cigar cleanly off, letting it fall to the bridge floor, before holding the cigar between his teeth and saying, “Stop flower arranging and get to the bridge!”

He lit his cigar as the Emergency Hospitality Hologram faded into view. 

“My apologies, Captain. If I’d realised the ladies were intending on spending the night in the greenroom I would have made it a little more, _inviting,_ beforehand.”

Steward looked at his folio and smiled with smug satisfaction before looking back at the Captain.

“Doesn’t seem to have discouraged them too much from staying there though.”

“No. Stop.” Rios interrupted, “No more information on that subject. I don’t want to think of Raffi, er-,” he flushed in embarrassment and chewed his cigar.

“Well I just don’t want to think of Raffi at all. Like that. Understand?” He sighed out a cloud of smoke that the EHH waved away, politely. 

“Noted.” Steward bowed his head. “You wanted me for something, Captain?”

Rios pointed at the Comms request displayed on Enoch’s station.

“Hmm,” The EHH said with interest, clicking his fingers to move the data to his file. “I could patch it through to the holodeck for her?”

Cris strode forward, hand on his hip, squinting the message. “It’s tagged ‘private’,” he said, jabbing at the projection with his cigar. The holo readout beeped and flashed _"Specifications: Sender willing to wait for a private link.”_

“Now, I don’t care what she’s up to with Seven, private means private.” He turned back around to face the EHH and pointed toward the holosuite. 

“You go wake sleeping beauty and Enoch will patch it through it through to her quarters.”

With a deep bow Steward vanished, and with him the stub of cigar on the floor by the captain's chair. The ENH nodded too, and rerouted the subspace link to the holoscreen on Raffi’s desk.

Rios took his seat, leaned down and picked up his book. Opening it, he glanced inside for a few blurry seconds before deciding instead to lay the open book against his flushed face.

“Enoch, you have the conn.” He mumbled from under the cool darkness of the book, before settling down for a nap. He hummed _“Sweet Home Chicago”_ softly to himself as he drifted off.

The only other sound on the quiet ship was the muffled conversation drifting up from sickbay. Elnor’s footsteps sounded as he walked carefully back from the replicator carrying a Romulan breakfast for three. Hugh Two followed at his heels, tail held high, the warm smell of food holding his interest.

Agnes stood to help unload the tray of little dishes Elnor carried onto the wide round table of the lab.

Emil looked up from the biobed where he was reviewing Hugh’s progress. He sighed.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now? Getting crumbs in my lab?”

“It could be.” Elnor smiled, oblivious to the sarcasm and not noticing Emil’s eyes rolling.

Hugh waited patiently until the Doctor had finished with his morning scans, before heading over to join Agnes and Elnor at the table.

“I don’t deserve this,” Hugh smiled, looking at the gently steaming flat breads and little ceramic dishes of spiced preserves.

“I agree.” Elnor nodded sagely.

“What?” Hugh said, honestly a little hurt.

“You deserve better.” Elnor smiled, kindly pulling out a chair for the xB. “There’s nowhere to cook onboard this ship, so I’m afraid the bread is replicated.”

He picked up a little bowl of a bright yellow jam and placed it near Hugh. “This is real though.” The ceramic dish clicked softly against the table top. “I brought it with me. It’s one I made myself.” He added with pride.

 _“Ihlla’nh!”_ He smiled as he passed the plate of still warm flatbread to the xB. “Let’s eat.”

Later the EMH joined the trio at the table as the conversation turned towards the Captain's lack of tact.

“I simply _put up_ with his mood swings.” Emil said, brushing bread crumbs absentmindedly into a little pile. “But the EHH gets the worst of it. I’ve lost track of how often the Captain says, ‘I hate that fucking holo’.”

“So rude.” Agnes shook her head, as Hugh Two rubbed himself fondly against her leg.

She remembered one _particular_ talent of her student project. _Well,_ she thought with a grin. _The Captain’s got to learn to be polite somehow._

“Emil, can I use your station to alter a holo-matrix?”

“So long as you’re not intending on altering mine,” he said, eyebrows raised, “then yes.” 

The cyberneticist half skipped to the lab station and began making a slight change to Hugh Two’s command subroutines. The little cat's eyes flickered blue with a freshly downloaded software patch.

“Right!” She rubbed her small hands together conspiratorially. “Retraining the Captain. Day one.”

The others watched with bemusement as, with a few deft keystrokes, Hugh Two disappeared from view. There was a blue shimmer on the floor by the captain’s chair.

“Hey Cris!” Agnes yelled up at the bridge.

There was a distant groan of acknowledgement from under the book.

“Are you going to be polite to Steward?”

“If he does his job, maybe.” Cris felt the gentle weight as the cat jumped up onto his stomach. He ignored it.

“Uh-huh.” Agnes leaned against the door to sickbay, watching Hugh Two sit down on Cris’ chest. “And what if he ignores you and keeps flower arranging?”

“Invest in a new EHH, maybe?” Rios sighed in exasperation, taking the book off his face to look down at Agnes, “I hate that fucking hol-”

The cat opened it’s tiny pink mouth and an almighty air horn noise blasted Cris in the side of the head. With a scramble and a yelp he pushed himself backwards, tumbling over the arm of the chair and landing in a heap on the floor of the bridge with a groan.

Hugh Two landed neatly on all four paws in the captain’s chair and blinked a little in surprise, before holding up a back leg indifferently in the air, as he began to studiously lick himself.

Enoch neatly saluted the little cat.

“Welcome to the bridge, Captain.” He smiled, “I hope you’re less grumpy than the last one we had.”

“I hate _all_ of you.” Rios grimaced, still lying on the floor of the bridge and massaging a palm against his ear, trying to stop the ringing.

Cris watched two neatly laced shoes glitter into view beside his head.

“Now you’ll find that the analgesic you keep refusing for the hangover _might_ help with that new ankle sprain you’ve acquired.” Emil’s curt voice said from above. “There’s nothing I can do about your pride, though.” He added dryly.

“Somebody get me a new ship.” Rios winced, pushing himself up and glaring down at the traitors in the medbay.

“Oh and some new crew!” He shouted down and scowled.

Agnes scowled back playfully before bursting out into an infectious laugh. 

Cris chuckled despite himself, then gingerly picked the holocat up like it might explode and placed it on the floor of the bridge.

“Sorry for the mutiny, little guy. But you need _thumbs_ to work the impulse thrusters.” He smiled and patted it’s little head with a calloused hand.

“No more air horn cat, understand?” 

The holo cat turned his back, tail alert, butt pointedly aimed at the Captain as he trotted off.

“Right!” Cris said decisively, “After she’s done with that call Raffi has a lot to answer for.” He sighed before grinning wickedly as he clocked the OPS officer rushing across the deck.

 _Was she actually wearing Seven’s get up from last night?_ Rios thought, _Yes! Oh this was too good to pass up!_

“Hey Raf, who stole your dress?”

“Shut it, Cris!” She yelled back, her voice fraught, not looking over. “Just put that call through to my quarters.”

Her tone concerned him. Not much got Raffi that rattled. He looked back at the name on the screen and chewed his cigar worriedly.

_Who the hell was Hwang?_

* * *

Raffi felt sick. The active holoscreen in her quarters already held a _“G. Hwang - transmission waiting”_ message. It hovered in the air above the desk, pulsing insistently against the dark of the room. She sat at the desk and tapped the “accept call” space.

“That took a while?” Gabe said flatly, he sounded tired.

“Sorry, honey. I wasn’t expecting a call.” Raffi smiled nervously. “I’m so _glad_ though, you-”

“I’m not here to catch up.” He replied, shifting in his chair. Raffi didn’t recognise the room, but the dark blue wall hanging behind Gabe looked like it had Romulan script along the beaded edges.

“Sorry, I just-” she paused. “It’s so good to see you, honey.”

Gabe turned his face away for a moment rather than acknowledge Raffi's words, then with a sigh, he turned back.

“So Pel’s a traditionalist on some of this stuff and,”

“What stuff, Gabe?”

“It’s part of the traditional naming ceremony that all the grandparents should pick a name for the baby. We’ve already got the others and-”

“The baby?” Raffi interrupted. “Oh Gabe? Are you a dad? How is she? And how’s Pel doing? When did it happen? What weight? _Oh god,_ is everyone doing ok?”

“Mom just, _stop_ a second. Yes everything’s fine. She arrived yesterday. I didn’t-”

“Oh, send my love to Pel and-”

“Mom. Look I’m not here for a conversation. I didn’t even _want_ to contact you. But Pel said that it's tradition for each grandparent to pick a name and I’m going to do right by my daughter’s culture. So if you can give me a name _please_ and I can let you get back to doing whatever it was that was keeping you so busy.”

“I’m not busy.” Raffi folded her hands together to stop herself from fidgeting. “I’ve got all the time in the world for you, Gabe.”

Raffi’s eyes glanced to the side to see if the call had come with any attached data.

It hadn’t.

“Do you have a holo-image of her I can see?” Raffi smiled weakly.  
  
“Mom. _Please_ stop misunderstanding what’s going on here. I’m not calling to catch up.”

“Please, honey? I just want to see her?”

“Mom-”

“Has your dad seen her?”

“Well he came to Freecloud for the birth-” Gabe rubbed the back of his neck distractedly.

“He’s _there?”_

“He’s out now. He went to go pick up some Osol Twists for Pel.”

Raffi felt like a knife had slid between her ribs. _Was everyone there but her?_

“I wish I could have been there too, honey.” She said, trying not to let her voice waver.

“Not everything is about you Mom.”

A voice came from off screen, “Is that your mother? Does she want to see the baby?”

“Yes!-” Raffi winced as a mute icon flashed across the image. She slammed her palm on the desk in frustration, feeling a lump rising in her throat.

She could see Gabe shaking his head before turning back to the screen.

“I have to go soon, my father-in-law is nearly done with dinner and he hates it if anyone’s late.”

Raffi imagined this Romulan family sitting down to dinner with her son, her ex-husband and ...her _granddaughter._ The baby held in someone’s arms. Her heart ached. She felt faint and desperately, painfully sad.

“A name then?”

“You really could have given me a little more time on this, babe?”

_“Mom.”_

“Yes. Right. I could have got nothing. I, _I’m sorry.”_

She panicked, trying to think of a good name. Of a _worthy_ name. “Er, Cristina?” She smiled weakly, thinking of Rios.

“Or maybe that’s too Terran?” Her mind scrambled for Romulan _anything,_ the thought of Elnor and his compliment.

_And her family did have a naming tradition after all._

“Or Kal’Vreen? It means angel in Romulan? Or Kal?” She hesitated, not even sure if it could be used as a name. “Y’know your Grandma was the one who named you Gabriel? She said we were lucky to have two angels in the family.”

Gabe’s expression softened for a moment.

Raffi took the moment to add, “Maybe we could have three?”

“I miss Grandma.” Gabe sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. Raffi’s heart ached, for just a second he looked so much like he had when he was still her little boy.

“I know, honey. But she’d be _so proud_ of you right now. Her little Gabey Baby, all grown up and _a father.”_

A deep, warm voice yelled from off screen.

 _“Ssuaj, di'ranov!”_ Gabe replied in Romulan before turning back to the call. “I have to go. I’ll tell Pel your suggestions. Bye, mom.”

“Bye, Ga-” The call ended abruptly and the Manheim Subspace Network logo filled the screen.

“Gabe.” She finished with a heavy sigh.

 _She was a grandmother,_ she thought. The idea taking all the oxygen out of the room. Somewhere out there there was a little girl. With Gabe’s eyes maybe and, who knows, maybe her curly hair?

 _Her granddaughter,_ she felt her chest tightening. _No one she’d ever know._

And with a sudden, all encompassing, pang of guilt she realised in the panic of the conversation she’s not asked what the baby’s _first_ name was.

 _Off to a great start as a grandma there, Raffi,_ she thought to herself as she put her head in her hands. The lump in her throat tightened again. She could feel herself starting to shake. She felt dizzy. Feeling like she might fall, she eased herself onto the floor and pulled her knees tight against her chest. It felt like her heart might break.

The door beeped. _“Raffi? It’s Seven?”_

“Come.” Raffi stammered before finally the floodgates opened.

* * *

The water rippled as a shuttle skimmed past, shaking the skyscraper’s reflections into sequins that glittered across the dark harbour.

West Dock Promenade thronged with immaculately dressed patrons leaving the concert hall. Conversation about the evening's performance mingled in the night air, blending with the music of a Bajoran cellist sitting by the fountain. The contents of the busker's upturned hat clicking occasionally as wealthy passersby dropped in slips of latinum.

The cool waterside breeze was a welcome relief to Ani after the stifling heat of the auditorium. The tenor for this evening's performance of the Klingon operatic classic had felt the need to use _real flames_ in the grand finale. 

The xB leaned on the smooth railing of the wide, shallow stairs leading up to the concert hall. The thin paper programme in her hands boasted an evening of opera with a quadrant-famous singer, his blue face beaming from the large portrait on the front. She tucked the programme under her arm. The evening air eased through her loose hair, caressing the warm skin of her neck. Annika fished her palm-holo out of her blazer pocket and checked the time.

 _This friend of Jay’s was certainly taking his time,_ she thought, before idly scrolling through the latest update on Jake’s Sisko’s subspace news column.

_“My year with the Rangers: Exploring shifting personal and political boundaries in the former Neutral Zone.”_

_The reader's response to the latest article looked good,_ Annika thought. _They might get some new donors after this one._

With a click she deactivated the device, the glowing orange holo-text flowed down like an hourglass back into her cupped hand. The concert goers continued to drift past, some of them in gowns that must be worth an entire year's earnings on Fenris. 

The tree leaves rustled gently as a shuttle passed by overhead. The trip from Fenris to Freecloud had been tiring. It had been easier when they lived together, but the constant back and forth between the two worlds was a strain on the fuel supplies. Also, with the raids getting worse at the new settlement and the Rebels getting a foothold in old Ranger territory, Annika couldn’t be away for too long. Besides, Jay seemed to be doing well on Freecloud, if that dress was anything to go by.

Seven took a moment to appreciate the expensive looking red silk that clung to Jay’s, well, _everything._ She was looking forward to seeing the new apartment too, and about showing off how the implant removal scars had healed. She slid the palm-holo back into the pocket, feeling a little like a fraud in her replicated evening wear. Her fingers brushing against a dinner receipt from last month's visit to Freecloud. _She really should try to come and visit Jay more._

Annika looked up across the tree lined plaza where Bjayzl was pacing back and forth speaking into her communicator. The dramatic slit in her silky red dress flowed across her thigh as she strode purposefully. Her gold earrings glinted in the warm light as one of the hovering grav-lanterns passed quietly overhead. 

“That’s just not good enough, Bruce,” her voice carried on the evening air, “you’ll just have to do without. I’m not changing my offer.” 

She paused in conversation but kept pacing, heels clicking against the elaborate mosaic floor by the fountain.

“No. _No,_ you asked that already.” Jay pinned the communicator against her ear with her shoulder as she fished in her purse for her horgl.

“Well I’m sorry, but that one’s off limits.” Bjayzl said taking a long drag and exhaling upwards to avoid a couple walking past.

“I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, Bruce, least of all _you._ Everyone needs a hobby, that one’s mine.” She sat down, perching on the edge of the fountain, distractedly rubbing her sore feet.

 _“Fine.”_ She sounded exasperated, “I’ll get you one that’s an equivalent match. Same quadrant _guaranteed,_ ok? But I better see a return on this investment soon. I’m not funding your little playtime indefinitely.”

“ _Darling!”_ Came a deep, honeyed voice. Ani looked up to see a startlingly handsome man, the star of the evening's performance, as he pushed through the double doors at the top of the stairs. He waved across to Bjayzl on the plaza.

“Gotta run.” Jay disconnected the call, straightening her dress as she stood to make her way back to Ani’s side.

“Ah, Jay! _There’s_ my life saver!” The blue skinned opera singer beamed, his smile as white as his hair, he held his arms wide and walked down the stairs toward them.

“I trust you enjoyed the show?” The singer looked between the couple. “An evening of beautiful music for such very _beautiful_ women!”

Jay’s bracelets clinked cleanly as she brushed aside the compliment with a graceful wave of a perfectly manicured hand, before she leant in to accept a kiss to each cheek.

“And _this_ must be the lovely Annika?” The opera singer said, offering a hand to Ani.

The xB shook it and nodded. “Congratulations on your performance Mr. K'tri-”

“Why thank you my dear,” he interrupted, “but please, call me Xyr.”

“Xyr,” Ani corrected with a quirk of her chin, “your grasp of Klingon opera is impressive for a non Klingon. Excellent harmonics in the Qo’noS cadenza.”

 _“Well, well.”_ The performer looked taken aback as he turned to Bjayzl, still warmly shaking Annika's hand, “A beauty _and_ an opera aficionado. You _must_ hold on to this one, Jay!”

“Oh, I intend to,” Jay smiled, “and thank you again for the tickets. The seats were exceptional.”

“The very _least_ I could do my dear, after all you did for me last time.”

“Don’t mention it.” The brunette smiled, looking pleased with herself.

“But, my dear, how can I not?” The Kendrian gushed, pausing a moment to theatrically sign a programme for a waiting fan, before sliding the pen into his top pocket neatly with a practiced flourish.

“The wave harmonic module you donated truly saved the show!” He continued, “and my goodness, the _sound quality_ is like nothing we’ve had before! I’ve no idea how you managed to source it Jay, but I’ll keep you in mind next time we’re updating the rest of the equipment. The philanthropists have deep pockets.”

The singer turned his attention back to Ani, “Keep a hold of this one, my dear. She’s going places, that’s for sure. I’ve got an eye for that sort of thing.”

Annika rested her head lovingly on Jay’s shoulder as the brunette blushed. 

“The two of you’ll come to the next show, yes? We’re doing _Old Earth Classics,_ it’s going to be a _hoot,_ I’ll be wearing a white suit and spats!” He struck a pose and waggled his white eyebrows.

“Minnie the Moocher?” Ani asked.

“Oh she knows it _all!”_ The singer leaned flirtatiously against the brass stair rail, clearly impressed.

“You might have competition if you’re not too careful, Jay?” he crooned before glancing up at the xB’s implant.  
  
“Ex-Borg, am I right? I didn’t know the Collective had such a good taste in music?”

“Taste is irrelevant. My Jazz knowledge is,” she paused, fondly remembering Tom Paris two-stepping out of the holodeck, “from a friend. The Collective isn’t known for its _swing.”_

“Huh, well in _that_ case,” Xyr plucked the programme out from under Annika’s arm, “consider this my _personal invitation.”_ He fished his autographing pen back out of his pocket.

“What’s their name?”

“...Tom.” Annika paused and swallowed awkwardly. Not sure how to say she wasn’t in touch with him any more.

“My _Dearest_ Tom,” Xyr mumbled as he scrawled in a looply, extravagant script over the beaming portrait of himself on the playbill.

_“Heard you got rhythm!_

_Annika and I say come have a good time on Freecloud!_

_Bring your dancing shoes._

_Affectionately yours,_

_K'tri'Xyr”_

“It’s a date!” The Kendrian clicked his expensive looking pen for emphasis and handed back the programme.

“Tickets on me. You can have the Federal box. And, hey, if you’ve got any other friends who’d enjoy it, bring ‘em along too.”

The Kendrian glanced over the two of them at a handsome man waiting over by the fountain, rubbing a hand through his dark beard. 

“Ah, must dash! My date’s here! Lovely to meet you, Annika. Keep in touch, Jay.” He smiled and gave Bjayzl’s arm a friendly squeeze, before setting off at a trot down the stairs.

”You ladies have a good night, now!” The Kendrian smiled mischievously over his shoulder as he left. _“I’m_ certainly intending on it.” He added with a wink.

Jay snaked an arm round Ani’s waist as the two of them leisurely wandered out toward the edge of the water. Jay flicked a strip of latinum into the cellist’s hat as they walked past, the Bajoran nodded with appreciation, continuing the relaxed, deep, sad sounding song.

“Business is good then?” Ani raised an eyebrow, watching the latinum land with a clink.

“I told you, the bar’s doing really well now.” Jay waved her opera programme dismissively.

“And your refurbished-tech venture?”

“Oh, that’s going just swimmingly too.”

“Don’t you have enough to do, ensuring the Rangers comms are running efficiently?”

“I’m an _excellent_ multitasker.” Jay smirked. “Besides life can’t all be about dust and fighting and oh, _‘the rebels took this’, ‘the raiders broke that’.”_ She leaned against the railing with a heavy sigh, looking out over the harbour.

“Sometimes it’s nice to have nice things.”

Ani leaned against the railing too, careful not to knock her fingertips against the steel. “I’m sure the Rangers could use some of that technology you’re dealing in, since you appear to have enough spare to give to the opera.”

“Unlikely.” Jay mumbled against her the mouthpiece of her horgl. “What’s anyone on Fenris going to do with a ‘wave harmonic module’ anyway, hmm? Make the sound of hostage demands have crisper audio? And I’m sure we’d all get a kick out of hearing kids cry in _surround sound_ for a change.”

_“Jay!”_

“I know, I know. ” The brunette sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“The money could perhaps have been useful to Korok.” Ani said, watching the flash of a ship breaking atmosphere near the horizon.

“Connections are worth a lot more.” Bjayzl said exhaling what smelled like artificial strawberry vapour. “I’m building something here on Freecloud, Ani. I’m getting to know the _right_ people. You heard what Xyr said, those philanthropists have deep pockets-”

“For opera only, I’m sure.” The xB said dryly.

“It makes a change, that's all.” Jay tucked a dark curl behind her ear. “To have the finer things for once. We didn’t have a lot growing up, I don’t know about you?”

“I didn’t.”

Bjayzl met her gaze.

“Grow up that is.” Ani muttered, looking away and lacing her fingers together. Running a thumb absentmindedly along her own palm implant. “Maturation tank.”

“Oh.”

The xB took the programme out from under her arm to ease the awkward feeling, and re-read the message. Her heart ached. She wished Tom had called back. Or maybe she should have. 

_It had been too long now,_ she thought ruefully.

Bjayzl took the thin programme from Ani’s loose grip and traced over the silver ink with a finger.

“An old friend.” Ani looked down over the railing where the water painted gloss reflections on the wall. She watched the thin leaves trapped in foam as they drifted back and forth.

“Everything ok?” Jay asked.

“It’s nothing, it’s just,” Ani sighed, “it’s his birthday soon. His daughter’s too. I find myself missing them.” The xB looked up at the other woman. “Are you coming back to Fenris any time soon?”

Jay’s shook her head, her long dark hair fell loosely over her bare shoulders. “I’m more useful on Freecloud. I can do most things remotely. I don't miss any of Korok's orders.”

“I miss _you.”_

“Likewise” Jay replied, her eyes scanning down Ani’s figure. “How’s the healing going?” She asked, easing over to stand behind Ani.

“My nanoprobes finished what the dermal regenerator couldn’t.”

“Hmm, so no more implants along here then?” The xB could hear the smile in Jay’s voice as hands smoothed round her waist from behind. “I’d be interested in taking a look for myself.” 

Ani felt a shudder run through her that wasn’t from the cold and let her eyes drift closed with a smile.

“Y’know the new apartment’s got a _bath,_ a real one.” Jay smoothed her lower lip across Ani’s shoulder. “I think I _like_ the sound of you in a bath.”

Jay’s words tickled the skin of her neck.

“Maybe we can take our minds off Fenris for a little while?” a hand smoothed a little higher up the front of her dress.

A scandalised older gentleman scoffed indignantly as he walked past. “Well, _really!”_

 _“Lovely_ evening isn’t it, sir!” Jay said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Enjoying the view?” 

She laughed as the man hurried away.

“Asshole looks like my uncle.” She sneered.

“You’ve never mentioned your family.” Ani observed with a raised eyebrow.

“Well that's _mostly_ due to the fact that they’re not worth mentioning.”

Bjayzl looked back at Xyr’s smiling invitation on the programme.

“Right.” She said decisively. “No more moping after people from your past.”

She began deftly folding the paper programme into an aeroplane.

“Jay!” Ani exclaimed in protest.

“Sorry, were you actually going to call him? This Tom guy?” She asked, pausing her folding.

The xB sighed sadly. “I suppose not.” 

“Exactly. _Past. Is. Past.”_ She said firming the creases down with each word. “If he was supposed to still be around, then he would be.”

“Like my waste-of-space family, he doesn't matter.” Jay closed an eye and bit her tongue for effect, aiming her creation at the water. _“Good riddance.”_

The paper plane flew out from her fingers, gliding high in the cold evening air. Spinning in a frantic loop, buffeted by the heavy, roaring, downdraft of a passing shuttle before slipping, without a sound, into the dark water.

“Come on,” She took Ani’s hand, “let’s get out of here.”

* * *

Seven was still tugging on her leather jacket as she made her way across the deck. She was grateful the EHH had brought her a set of clothes after Raffi had absconded with her outfit from the night before.

The door to Raffi’s quarters slid open. The lights were set to night cycle, the dull, red glow crept along the ceiling, picking out the edges of the few personal belongings Raffi had left scattered across the desk.

Seven felt her ocular implant buzz as it adjusted to the low light, before spotting Raffi huddled on the floor by her desk chair. Knees clutched tightly to her chest.

“Can I come in?” Seven asked carefully, still in the doorway.

Raffi answered with a nod, her hair still unkempt from sleep. 

The xB crossed the room and eased herself onto the floor next to Raffi. The OPS officer looked up at her, her tear-stained cheeks catching the dull red glow of La Sirena’s lights.

 _“Raffi.”_ Seven breathed, taking Raffi’s face in her hands. Trying to dry her cheeks with her thumbs. “What happened?”

“I’m,” Raffi’s voice caught in her throat before the realisation really hit home and the end of her sentence came out as a sob, “ _a Grandma.”_

“But you’re upset?” Seven replied softly, her voice edged with confusion.

“My son’s got a new baby girl.”

“Congra-” Seven’s words were cut off as Raffi continued.

“He doesn't want anything to do with me. I mean I _deserve it_ after everything I did to him and his dad-”

“You can’t deserve this.” Seven replied, kindly.

“I wasn’t-,” Raffi restarted her train of thought, “I’m _not_ a good mom.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. “But it’s not like I _meant_ to be a bad one. Things just happened. With JL. With Romulus. But I thought if I got-,” she took a shaky breath and straightened up a little.

“If I got cleaned up. If I did it right this time. If I turned myself around then, maybe I could get a second chance, y’know?” 

“Admirable.” Seven smiled in what she hoped was a comforting way. Raffi’s deep brown eyes began to fill with tears again and Seven’s heart ached at the sight.

“But it’s not enough. I mean how could it ever really be? I fucked up so badly, Seven. I just-,” She blinked as more hot tears ran down her face. “He’s said he wouldn’t have even called if it hadn’t been for Pel’s naming tradition and-”

Seven pulled Raffi into her arms. 

“You don’t deserve this," the xB whispered, softly cradling Raffi's head to her chest. "He had no right telling you that he wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t for tradition. That was cruel.”

“I don’t think he meant it to be.” Raffi mumbled into Seven's chest. The xB kissed her lover’s hair, and pressed a comforting hand against her shoulder as the other woman's breathing began to slow.

“Time to stop chasing after him?” Seven said, running her hand soothingly up and down Raffi’s back.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” The OPS officer said, pulling away.

“Perhaps it’s for best if he’s not in touch.”

“How can you even say that?” Raffi scoffed, wiping her nose and shuffling further back.

“Sometime’s people leave, Raffi." Seven looked down at her hands in thought, "Individuals I knew from Voyager I… I lost track of them.”

“This isn’t _work colleagues,_ Seven. This is family.” Raffi felt her chest tighten.

“They _were_ my family.” Seven added.

Raffi's eyes scanned Seven's as the xB met her gaze. “What do you mean ‘were’?”

“I didn’t, I don’t, have anyone else after the Collective.” She sighed.

“I used to have someone who was like a son too, however he,” Seven looked away. “He’s gone now and the rest of the crew, I” she paused thoughtfully, “lost touch. Or they stopped replying to me. Busy, or didn’t approve of how things ended with my Captain. But they all stopped returning my subspace communications not long after I joined the Rangers.”

“And so what,” Raffi puzzled, “you just gave up on them? That easily? I thought you said they were family?”

“They were.” Seven frowned. “But sometimes people leave, Raffi. If he was _supposed_ to still be around then he would be.”

 _“What?”_ Raffi looked incredulous. “No, that’s not it. I just need to be _better,_ that’s all. I just need to figure out how I can _f_ _ix this.”_

Seven watched Raffi’s heart rate tick up. This wasn’t going to plan. She desperately tried to think of some advice.

“Someone told me once, ‘past is past’.”

Raffi thoughts spiralled. She could still hear the disdain in Gabe’s voice. Her stomach tightened painfully at the thought of him and his new family, right now sitting down to dinner together. _And where was she? Sitting on the floor with someone she barely knew telling her to- to what? To forget everything?_

“Past is past?” Raffi repeated back as Seven nodded in reply.

“No, I-,” Raffi rubbed a palm across her hot brow, her other hand twitching around an imaginary horgl, “that’s _not_ it. I can fix this. I can figure it out. I just need time. I just need-”

Seven laid a hand softly on Raffi’s arm. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be?”

 _Not meant to be?!_ The words rang harshly against Raffi’s ears. _What wasn’t meant to be? Her being a Grandma? Her having a family?_

Seven continued, “He’ll be back in touch if he wants to.”

“If he wants to?! I’m his Mom, Seven! I’m _her_ Grandma, I should _be there!”_ Raffi threw her hands up in the air, as the raw pain in her chest curdled sickeningly into rage. “What would you know about _any of it?”_

Seven took her hand back, wordlessly.

“You say ‘maybe it’s not meant to be’ but have you ever even _tried_ to fix any of your _so called_ relationships before? _Hmm?_ Or did you just let everyone drift away from you ‘cos it was easier that way?”

Raffi pushed herself to her feet and staggered over to the window. She caught her reflection against the glass. La Sirena’s red glow picked out the ragged halo of her bed-hair and the unkempt edges of Seven’s rumpled shirt against her skin.

She looked tired. Disheveled. Old. 

_Oh, god,_ she thought. _Is how she’d looked on the call to Gabe? Fuck._

“I can fix this, Seven. I can,” Her voice grew more frantic, her eyes darting desperately between her reflection and the holoscreen on the desk. “I can call him back, apologise again or-”

“Raffi, _please.”_ Seven stood up from the floor, taking a cautious step closer. It wasn’t even difficult at this point to get a read on Raffi’s vitals, her pulse leapt in panic at her neck.

“Try to breathe. Just forget about him for a second and-”

“I can’t just _forget_ him, Seven! I can’t just _turn off_ having feelings _for my son!_ ”

“Raffi,” Seven continued, “you need to take a deep breath and-”

“And what, Seven? _Forget about him?_ What was it you said before? You _used to_ have someone like a son? What the _fuck_ happened there?”

The air by the doorway shivered with blue photons.

“You just decide to _forget about him too?_ _YOU DON’T EVEN-”_

“What is the nature of-” 

_“-HAVE A FAMILY!”_ Raffi yelled.

“-your psychiatric emergency.” Emil finished.

Raffi’s words hung heavy in the air between them. Everything in the room suddenly felt still and quiet.

She regretted the words as soon as they passed her lips.

She regretted them the moment she watched a quiet, vulnerable trust _break_ behind Seven’s blue eyes.

That moment drew out as Seven angrily blinked back tears. Staring coldly at Raffi before shakily cocking her head. “Less than I thought, it seems.”

“Seven, I-“ Raffi felt the anger swiftly draining in cold fear.

 _“Don’t”_ Seven turned and strode away. Emil depolarized himself to let the xB pass straight through his holo-image, as she headed for the exit.

The door hissed loudly in the quiet room as Raffi watched the xB march out, not looking back.

 _“Seven,”_ Raffi whispered as the door hissed closed.

Raffi didn’t feel her legs give way under her. Barely felt the floor slam against her knees, Emil only partially managing to break her fall. 

Blood rushed in her ears, as she distantly heard Emil ask the computer for a hypospray.

Her hands curled into quaking fists at her temples, the pain in her chest clawed relentlessly inside her ribs.

_Gabe._

_Oh, fuck._

_Seven._

_She needed a drink._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Mea culpa_ for the sadness. Please accept this link to some fluff in the form of [Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (A Man After Midnight)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683681) or alternatively to some more peaceful Seven/Raffi times over in [Observational Truth.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842516)
> 
> Romulan from [ Federation Space Wiki.](https://wiki.fed-space.com/index.php?title=Common_Romulan_Words)  
>  _Ssuaj_ / I understand (non-formal, common use)  
>  _di'ranov_ / father
> 
> Thanks to Arelithil for kindly letting me take Xyr for a whirl! See how his date goes in the hilarious fic [”A Night at the Opera”.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24867145/chapters/60161284)
> 
> Here’s [Bjayzl’s red dress,](https://regardmag.com/wp-content/uploads/Necar-cover-crop.jpg) for science.
> 
> Finally, thanks to Spinifex for continuing the Blues Brothers vibes from Chapter 8 with the song suggestion of [Minnie The Moocher.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZ5gCGJorKk) I _adore_ the image of Tom singing this to an eye-rolling (but secretly really into it) B’Elanna.
> 
> Thanks for reading! New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	11. Cargo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks and deepest apologies to Beta reader Lintila to whom I said this fic would be 10 chapters. Beta readers, it seems (like Beta Inari), can smell a lie.
> 
> Beta’s note: Please stop comparing me to Vup.
> 
> (CW: Some self harming type behaviour in the form of skin picking, a description of Icheb’s death (sans the eye section) and Bjayzl’s death, a description of suffering intrusive thoughts, as well as a handful of blood mention in this, a heads up if you need one x)
> 
> Edit note: Last chapter I neglected to mention what Seven was wearing so I’ve gone back and added a line to clarify her getting changed before she comes to find Raffi. Raffi’s in Seven’s outfit from the dance, Seven is in her typical Ranger-y get up - let's all synchronise watches and mental images aaand... go!

Seven stormed out of Raffi’s quarters, the other woman’s words ringing in her ears. 

_She needed to get away._

Roaring laughter from the bridge crashed against her thoughts as she stepped out onto the deck. She glanced left at the rest of the crew, gathered together around the captain's chair laughing. Elnor caught her eye and waved brightly. His face fell suddenly at the sight of xB’s sagging shoulders. She quickly turned her head away as Elnor touched Hugh’s sleeve in alarm. Seven veered right instead, seeing a staircase leading down.

The metal grating of the stairs clanged coldly underfoot as she moved quickly into the dark, quiet underbelly of La Sirena. The close walls felt eerily familiar as she banked right and a door hissed open in response to her presence. Dull orange light spilled from the hallway into the dark room, picking out the edges of stacked shipping crates.

 _The cargo hold,_ she thought. _Figures._

Glancing over her shoulder, she made her way inside as the door slid closed behind her, squeezing out the light. The pressing darkness of the space filling her vision.

Her optical implant hummed faintly against the inside of her cheekbone as she glanced around the hold. Residual Borg technology automatically scavenged what little light was offered by the distant burning stars, filtered in through the small grimy portholes, amplifying it into a spectral green shadow of the cramped space.

 _“You don’t even have a family.”_ She thought. Her rib cage felt as if it had turned to lead, every gasp a heavy, weighed strain. Like a vice had been clamped about her heart, cruelly tightening with every breath.

She tried to stop thinking about it but it was stuck. A loop that only got more painful with each replay.

 _“You don’t even-“_ Seven’s photographic memory picked out the details of Raffi's face as she’d turned from the window, mouth curling into an angry snarl as she shouted.

_“What happened to your son, you forget about him too?”_

She desperately tried not to think of Icheb. The xB clambered up onto a cargo crate and tried to breathe slowly. _She knew how this usually ended._

 _It had been a kindness,_ she told herself. _It had been the only option._ Her elbows braced against her knees, head hanging between them under the mounting weight of the vicious, unyielding memories.

_“Now, Seven… please?”_

She swallowed hard. _It had been a kindness._

She laced her fingers together over the back of her head, forearms pushing against her ears, as if she could deafen herself to the broken record of her own memory. 

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck nip tightly into goose flesh against the cold leather of her collar.

_Felt the gentle give of his uniform against the end of the phaser._

_It had been the only option._

_Muzzle finding a snug fit against his chest._

She blinked, hard. Willing it to stop. Hoping. Pleading.

_It had been a kindness._

_Her finger on the trigger._

Her index twitched against her other hand. She dug her nails into her knuckle to keep it still. The groan of La Sirena’s warp core above felt crushingly claustrophobic.

_The hum of the fuel coil inside her phaser surging to life._

_It was a kindness._

_I’m so sorry._

A kaleidoscope of sensory detail flooded across Seven’s mind. A bright flash of red heat. The tight, arcing spasm of his body against hers. A burst of sudden warmth against her face from the particle discharge. The acrid, iron tang of a breath forced from his broken lungs by the blast. The sudden, terrible, leaden weight of him.

Seven’s nails bit into the skin of the back of her hand. The pain felt distant but better than the thought of Icheb.

She could _smell_ _that room,_ that _slaughterhouse._

She hooked a nail under the sharp edge of the metal over the back of her hand. Blood welling up as she tugged the raw edge of the implant away from the skin.

The pain sharpened her focus to a keen edge, enough to catch the faintest metallic scent of her own bleeding hand.

A sudden thought sparked violently across her mind, Jay’s terrified face erupting into bloody plasma-vapour. 

She flinched, watching the red mist settle dispassionately on the discarded, sticky cocktail glasses. She choked back a sob, _revenge should feel better than this._

_Should feel-_

_Shouldn’t be so-_

_Should-_

She pushed her knees against her ears, leather creaking in protest, as a quaking sob wracked her body. 

She gritted her teeth as she heard two sets of brisk footsteps and a warm English voice outside the door.

“-dealing with another incident. Thank you, Director. _Sorry.”_

There was a flicker of blue photons underneath the door as the EMH dematerialised, followed by a soft rap at the door.

“Seven?” Hugh’s soft voice came, muffled, through the bulkhead. “Seven, I wondered if you needed someone to talk to?”

The xB wiped her face against a beaten, leather sleeve. Steadied her chin at an angle that felt more confident than she really was and gritted her teeth, desperately hoping the trembling would stop.

“Come,” she said before whistling out a slow, steadying breath.

The door slid open, Hugh silhouetted against the light of the corridor as he stepped inside.

“May I?” He gestured to the crate next to Seven. She nodded once in reply, her still whirling mind haphazardly piecing together two images of Hugh. The green shadowy details picked out by her implant, with the concerned smile that her human eye focused on in La Sirena’s warm light.

“Do you require,“ Seven began, her voice wavering as she gestured to the dormant strip light overhead.

Hugh shook his head.

“They removed the cranial implant, not my ocular one.” 

He brought his hand up and gently flicked an unblinking blue eye, not flinching, as the biopolymer of his nail tapped dully against the surface.

“My ocular implant works just fine in the dark,” he said.

He crossed the cargo bay and pushed himself up on the crate with a pained groan before settling in place. Seven’s biological eye could just make out the faintest mercury ghost of his outline in the dark. 

“Besides,” he took a long look out of the small window in the outer door. “You can see the stars better this way.”

They sat in silence as Hugh politely ignored Seven’s uneven breathing as it returned to normal. Seven knew he would have noticed it, but was grateful for his feigned ignorance.

His quiet, tranquil presence felt calming. _Familiar._ She supposed they might once have shared the same thoughts, all those years ago.

“You know they used to keep me in the cargo hold?” Seven sighed and stared at the floor. “Like so much other junk they fished out of the Delta Quadrant.”

Seven worried at the fresh, nanoprobe-created scab on her hand. Picking at the scar darkened skin near where a tubule almost broke the surface.

She could feel the firm lump of the assimilation apparatus below the skin, nestled between her ligaments. Could feel them roll against each other under the flat of her thumb. _She felt disgusted._

“I’ve been there,” Hugh nodded knowingly at the little welling spots of blood. Deciding instead to address the other pain present.

“Though I’d hardly say _‘junk’.”_ He grimaced as if the word tasted unpleasant on his tongue. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.” She sighed, feeling the weight of Jay and Icheb and the Romulan spy and everything else, pressing down on her, before looking over at Hugh. The xB sat straight, his calm hands neatly laced together in his lap.

“Actually,” she watched as her hand began to scab over again, “yes, I think I would.”

“So which bit is it?” Hugh asked simply.

“How come Picard got it all?” Seven said bluntly.

“Sorry?”

“He was Borg. And everyone just _forgot_ about it. He has one artificial eye, just like us, but everyone just pretends he’s human.” She paused in thought. “I suppose he’s not anymore.”

“I think,” Hugh rubbed at an itch at the edge of his brow implant, “the difference is that he _was somebody_ before he was assimilated. He had a ready made life to simply step back into. Us? Not so much. We had to build a life from scratch. We did it the hard way.”

“Who were you before?” Seven asked, curious.

“Honestly? I’ve no idea.” He sighed deeply. “I’m not even sure what species I am.”

Seven looked confused.

“I think I was born in the collective. Some convergence of technologies. My DNA doesn’t match any species. Human is… close, but I’m not.” He shrugged. 

Seven looked away. “I don’t think I _count_ as human anymore, not really. Not after-“ she trailed off, trying hard not to start the mental slideshow of Bjayzl’s aerosolized remains.

Hugh watched the other xB screw her eyes closed. 

“I don’t think you realise how much the xBs look up to you. You're legendary, you know? You’re the one of us that made it.”

“Made it.” She laughed coldly, rubbing the blood off the back of her hand onto her trousers. “Certainly doesn’t feel like it.”

“Seven, you made it. You really did.” Hugh said, with an earnest tone that would have made Elnor proud.

“I’m a mess, Hugh.” She swung her legs over the edge next to Hugh’s and hugged her arms against her sides. Feeling the scattered remains of implants, all that was left after Jay had persuaded her into the removal surgeries. _God she’d been an idiot back then._

“Oh, if you’d like to see a mess?” Hugh rolled up his dark sleeve. The skin was heavily pockmarked, tight white scars pulled like torn lace over angry raw flesh, dark in the shadow of the room

“Cold comfort, but we got the budget Romulan hack job. You got _artistry.”_ He traced an outline of his raised, scarred flesh with a thumb, thoughtfully.

“Your EMH knew exactly how much to take out. In the early days of the Project we went too far with the xBs. Had to start putting things _back in._ It was a mess. You remove too much and the body doesn't think it’s Borg anymore and then the immune system just starts rejecting _all of it._ Implants have to be replaced every two years because the nanoprobes start attacking them.”

He touched the scars at his face. “They peel all this off every few years or so to dig around again. New skull plating here, new eye next time.”

He rolled his sleeve back down and cupped his hands over his knees. “It’ll never heal like yours, Seven. _You’re perfect._ If I could promise my xBs they’d all end up like you I’d be the happiest man in the quadrant.”

Seven shrugged “Implants are one thing, Hugh, but I don’t see you going around murdering people.”

“Hmm, Elnor mentioned what happened.”

“She was a monster.” Seven spat, “But I’m tired of adding to my body count.”

Hugh ran a hand through his greying hair and turned to Seven. “You know, _I_ wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, Seven. And I have xB’s who only kept going on the programme because I have you to tell them about.”

Seven scoffed.

“It’s true,” Hugh smiled, “I set your service record as required reading.” 

“As a warning?” She laughed coldly.

“As an _inspiration,”_ he corrected. Hugh took his palm holo out of his pocket and activated it with a clean click. The green holoscreen hovered in front of his face, lighting up his thoughtful smile. “Yes, there’s tough reading in there Seven, I agree. I’m not sugarcoating life as an xB for them.”

He flicked through flies until he came to one he was looking for. Seven looked over at the small portrait of herself at the Voyager welcome home ceremony. A faint smile on her lips. The owner of the hand slung around her shoulder was cut off by the text, though she knew it was Tom. She smiled weakly at the memory.

“The things you’ve done!” Hugh scrolled past the photo, eyes scanning down the waterfall of green text. “You’re the only person to ever _see_ the Omega Particle. You designed the _only_ craft ever to break Warp Ten. You brought a crew member _back from the dead_ with your nanoprobes. And let’s not forget your use of transwarp technology brought Voyager twenty thousand light years closer to home _in, one, jump_ ,” he enunciated, hitting his knee with the flat of his palm to stress his point.

“Seven, there’s a very real chance Voyager would still be lost in the Delta Quadrant if it wasn’t for your work in Astrometrics.”

He slid the still active palm holo next to them onto the crate like a lantern.

“Your star charts are as close to _perfection_ as I’ve seen outside of the collective.”

He sighed, picturing with his perfect recall the elegant spiralling outline of Seven’s version of the Yontasa Expanse. Saw in his mind the way the ionic stream markers precisely flowed against the temporal eddies around each and every star.

Exact. Calculated. _Beautiful._

“They’re like _poetry.”_ He sighed.

“I was always fond of stars.” Seven said softly. “Even before I was assimilated.” 

“It shows,” Hugh smiled. “I’ve looked at every single star chart you published after Voyager returned to Earth. Your work, none of it was simply _in spite_ of being an xB. It was _because of it._ Your unique insight, your experience, your _passion._ It meant you did things most Starfleet scientists could only dream of.”

“And all of that is even before we get to what you’ve accomplished with the Rangers.” Hugh looked across at Seven, smiling ruefully at the slight look of disbelief on her face. He seemed to take pity on her and changed tact.

“You remember learning to sit down, I’m sure?”

“An uncomfortable experience,” Seven grimaced at the memory.

“Remember how it felt like the most alien thing in the galaxy? When your knees creaked because you’d never bent them that far back from straight? And your legs _hurt_ from the weight of sitting?”

Seven nodded in agreement.

“Well I’ve got xBs now who are in that position. Only it’s not the same for them as it was for us, because they’ve got _you, Seven.”_

“They learn to walk, so to speak, happily, even though it hurts, because they’ve seen how you _run.”_

Hugh leaned over and flicked the holoscreen to another file, what looked like a long list of names. He ran a finger up the rippling projection, sending the text scrolling upwards. Names flicking past like holonovel credits.

“That’s my list.” Hugh looked proud, “That’s every xB we’ve saved.”

The two of them watched the names tick past. Seven nodded, _it was impressive._

“Me, the Project, we’re just piecing things and people together as we go. But _you’re_ the individual who gave us hope that it was _worth it_ in the end. Every single one of those people knows your name, Seven. Every one of them carefully kindled their hope that they could be a person because you’d _already done it._ So, by all means, torture yourself by keeping score of the mistakes you’ve made. But _please,_ don’t do yourself the disservice of not counting the good you’ve done as well.”

Seven felt her throat tighten at the emotion in Hugh’s voice.

“We were dealt a terrible hand of cards, the two of us. And these days, the only thing I can think of doing is not even trying to play the game of ‘being human’, because we’re never going to win. I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready to just grab some glue and cheat at building myself a house of cards instead.”

The green flickering light of the scrolling list of names lit the edge of his kind face.

“Sorry about the speech,” he said shyly. 

“Very _Jean Luc.”_ Seven teased.

Hugh chuckled, and swung his heels against the crate before turning back to Seven.

“Is physical affection something that you find reassuring?” 

“Are you asking me if I want a hug, Hugh?” Seven raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Hugh answered, a soft smile in his voice, “if you’d like?”

Seven paused thoughtfully as the palm holo’s screen finally stopped scrolling through names. 

“I would.” She hesitantly replied.

Hugh shuffled along the edge of the crate and wrapped an arm around Seven’s shoulders. Then after a moment's thought, leaned his head companionably against hers. The two of them sat in the dark and the silence, listening to the distant, warm thrum of the warp core somewhere above them.

Eventually Hugh pulled away, asking quietly, “Do you want to come back up to the deck with me, or do you want some space to yourself?”

“I think I’ll sit here a while longer,” Seven watched the shadow of micrometeorite glide past the cargo bay window. “But thanks, Hugh, for the talk.”

“Anytime.” He smiled, eyes crinkling unevenly. “We’ll be alright in the end, piecing ourselves together as we go. Just a bit at a time.” He eased himself down from the crate. “I really believe we will.” 

Hugh crossed the room, turning with a hand on the door release key. La Sirena painted his profile in burnished gold as the door hissed open.

“Like a house of cards, Seven. Eh?” He smiled and left.

Seven licked a finger and thoughtfully wiped a spot of drying blood off the metal of her hand.

 _“Like a house of cards.”_ She echoed in agreement to the empty air.

* * *

“Seven?” Elnor said quietly as the xB ducked out of sight down the stairs. He touched Hugh’s arm and nodded after the quickly disappearing Ranger.

The laughter around Rios spluttered away as Seven clanging footsteps faded and a sudden blue light on the captain’s console caught Cris’ eye:

_“EMH status: Active._

_Crew IDENT:02”_

_“Fuck,”_ Cris muttered, springing from his seat and striding toward Raffi’s rapidly closing door.

He sped up to jog, and buzzed the door console.

 _“-Seven?”_ Raffi’s voice answered, muffled by the bulkhead. 

“No, just me,” Cris watched his shoes as he heard the Emergency Medical Hologram asking Raffi to follow his breathing.

“Sorry, I’ll come back,” Cris said, turning to leave as Raffi’s voice cracked louder.

“No! Please?”

Rios rubbed a hand through his beard and ignored the others watching from the far end of the ship.

The hiss of the opening door mingled with the hiss of a hypospray, as Emil emptied the contents into Raffi’s neck.

Raffi looked up sorrowfully from the floor. Her wide, tearstained eyes caught the light of the tricorder scanner as Emil checked how his patient was responding to the cocktail of beta blockers and mood-stabilisers. Satisfied he nodded to the Captain.

“So, I’m a Grandma, I guess.” Raffi muttered, looking mournfully up at her friend in the doorway.

 _Mierda, that look,_ Rios gritted his teeth, not needing to know the context to know the answer.

“I’m sorry, Raf.” He said, crossing the small room and crouching down by her other side.

He put a steadying hand on Raffi’s arm and lifted his chin to the air, “Computer: coffee, black.”

“Decaf.” Emil added, just in time, as the gently steaming drink materialised on the floor. He didn’t need the Captain to add unnecessary stimulants to his recently stabilised patient. The EMH shuddered suddenly as a cold trickle of yet more concerning data from another crew member slid through his subroutines. His eye flickering blue as he processed Seven’s rapid, shallow breathing and rose to his feet.

“Captain, if I can leave this in your hands?” He said, passing another hypospray to Rios. 

Cris nodded and watched as the hologram flickered away before passing the drink to his friend.

“Want to talk about your family?” He chanced.

Raffi shook her head. She could still see Gabe’s frustrated expression in her mind. She didn’t want to think about it just yet.

“Sure,” Cris said leaning back against Raffi’s bed. He lifted an arm in invitation.

Raffi carefully shuffled over, trying not to spill the drink, and nestled herself under Cris’ arm.

 _She’d missed this,_ she thought. _Like the old days._

He squeezed her shoulder, hoping that would communicate what he didn’t feel comfortable saying out loud.

“Want to talk about Seven?” He tried.

Raffi sighed heavily.

“The things she _said,_ Cris, about _forgetting Gabe_ . That I should just ‘move on.’” She took a sip of coffee, “As if you can just _do_ that, forget people.”

“Sounds harsh.” Cris agreed.

“I mean, I did lose it at her though.” She winced at the memory. “And maybe I went too far, but she was just so _cold.”_

“What did you say?”

“That she wouldn’t know what it’s like.” Raffi felt a rising embarrassment at her words. “That she didn’t understand because,” it all sounded so much more cruel now she was recounting it, “because she didn’t have a family.”

“Wow, Raffi. You ever consider that maybe she had to learn to be a person after the Collective? And maybe she doesn’t have everything all figured out yet?”

“Don’t give me that Cris,” Raffi frowned, “the way she said things. You want to talk about learning to be a person? She just cut her son out of her life, Cris. How the hell do you even _do_ something like that?” She took a sip of her drink, watching her reflection dart around on the dark surface.

“Hang on.” Rios held up a hand as the penny dropped. “What did she _actually_ say, Raf?”

“That her son’s gone and some stuff about forgetting and-”

 _“Shit.”_ He huffed, shuffling back to get a better look at Raffi, “hate to break it to you but,” Rios squirmed, unsure of how to phrase what he’d overheard on Freecloud.

“Raf, Seven’s kid... _died, ”_

Raffi sat in stunned silence.

“When we were making the trade for Maddox. The woman who had him; I think they were a couple or something way back,”

“Who, _Bjayzl?”_ Raffi looked taken aback, “The ex-Borg butcher?”

“Yeah. She, er, got Seven’s kid. Used her to get to him too.”

“Oh my god.” Raffis stomach dropped. “Bjayzl, she, she _killed him.”_

“No, I think…” Rios ran a hand through his hair and looked away a second before meeting Raffi’s horrified gaze. “I think… Seven had to do it.”

Raffi thought she might throw up. The surface of the coffee rippled in her shaking grip.

“It’s messed up.” Rios continued, “They cut him up, Raf. _For parts._ No anaesthetic or _anything._ And then Seven had to-”

“Oh god, Cris, no-” 

“-put him out of his misery.” He finished.

Raffi put down her cup, the base rattling against the cold floor as she set it aside.

 _“Fuck.”_ Raffi whispered, replaying her exchange with Seven. Her toes curling in shame as she remembered what she’d said.

“Cris, I fucked up.” Raffi said into her hands. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I mean I’ve got this?” Cris held up the hypo, uselessly. “But honestly, Raf, I think you start with an apology.”

* * *

Hot summer sun baked the dust into Annika’s clothes as she walked down the familiar broken street toward the Ranger’s usual meeting place. The dull, deactivated neon tubes of the Ha’Dara sign reflected the late afternoon sun as Ani held open the door for Korok. The Klingon twisted awkwardly to fit through the door, bulging stomach sucked in, arms laden with bags and boxes.

“Did you get it?” Iden flickered into view and peered into the the bags.

“Just wait a second,” Korok huffed, staggering to a table and carefully putting down his heavy cargo, before passing a wave modulator to Iden.

“There, happy?” He teased. “The rest is baby things.”

Iden raised his eyebrow as Korok unpacked a Type 2 Phaser from a bag.

“Ok, _mostly_ baby things.” The Klingon chuckled with a shrug, “And hey, baby’s gotta learn to defend the Qiris sector some time.”

“I said no phasers for the baby!” Marla called out to her husband from the other side of the room, before spotting the xB and pushing herself up awkwardly.

A small gaggle of Rangers were gathered round the long table at the back of the small restaurant. The cluster of empty chairs hammering home how many they’d lost lately; ones who’d drifted away, the ones who’d been called back home to problems on their own homeworlds as the Former Neutral Zone continued to spiral deeper into chaos, and of course the Rangers who’d left on a job and never come home. They’d buried three this quarter alone.

Annika made her way over to the heavily pregnant Bajoran.

“Not long now.” She cocked her head with a smile.

“Thank the Prophets,” Marla rested a hand at her stomach and smiled. “I wish I could remember what it's like not peeing every fifteen minutes.” She laughed.

“Any word on your aunt and uncle?” Annika pulled out a chair for her friend and helped her sit before sitting down herself.

“No,” Marla sighed, looking down at her bump, “and honestly I don't think there will be.”

She looked worried. “There’s just been another report of people going missing on the way through the sector.”

“Nothing unusual about that,” Ani pushed a worn tray of condiments out of the middle of the table, “individuals go missing all the time.”

“All of these were xB’s though. I checked. Every one, just like Aunt and Uncle.”

Marla glanced at the door and lowered her voice. “Listen Seven, I want to talk to you about Bjayzl.”

Annika raised an eyebrow, curious. Half amused, half irritated that most of the Rangers stubbornly persisted in calling her Seven, rather than Annika or Ani.

The sound of laughter cut across the room as Korok entertained the other Rangers.

“I don’t think she is who she says she is.” The Bajoran said seriously.

“Explain.” 

“I don’t know how to describe it, but ever since my third trimester, after the sneezing really kicked in, my head just started to feel, I don't know,” she rubbed her temples, “clearer. Which is honestly the _opposite_ of what’s supposed to happen. And Jay seems _different_ somehow.”

“She hasn’t changed.” the xB said defensively.

“I re-ran her bio data, Seven. _It’s not hers._ She used someone else's blood sample. It matched up with a John Doe I found on file.”

“That’s an alarming invasion of privacy.” Annika said, appalled.

“I don’t think she’s human. I think she’s maybe at least _part_ Betazoid.”

“Marla, I understand pregnancy can take a toll on-”

“Just listen, will you? I think we’ve all been just going along with her mind tricks. I haven’t mentioned it to Korok yet. The confirmation of the bio data only just arrived while you were out. But we need to talk before-”

The bell above the door rang as Jay arrived, shoving her bag rudely into Iden’s arms as soon as he materialised.

Korok smiled broadly at the brunette as she swept in, _“There’s_ my number one subspace-wrangler!” The huge Klingon grinned, striding across the room to greet Jay warmly.

“How was the shuttle from Freecloud?” He wrapped an arm around Jay, “They fly round those ion clouds this time?”

“They never-” Jay began, frowning at the creases forming in her jacket under Korok’s heavy arm.

“-fly around the ion clouds! I know, I know!” Korok finished her sentence, walking with her to the table, “But they _should_ do, is what I’m saying!”

Korok followed Jay’s annoyed glance at the cluttered table.

“Ahh yes, sorry about that,” He hauled the large, targ-skinned Klingon drum from the table to make room. “I’m practicing my Bajoran drumming ready for the birth.”

“Not long now!” He smiled at Marla.

Marla smiled back weakly. 

“Marla’s really missed you, Jay!” Korok wrapped an arm tenderly around his heavily pregnant wife. “Hasn’t stopped talking about you recently!”

Annika stood and wrapped her arms around her lover, warm contentment washing over her like a gentle wave. _Marla was being ridiculous,_ she thought. _She knew Jay._

Bjayzl drew back and kissed Annika, a bejewelled hand cupping the xB’s face softly.

“Sorry I missed the baby shower,” Jay smiled, turning to Marla. “Business has been busy on Freecloud.”

“Sure you’re not really Ferengi?” Korok teased, clapping Jay on the shoulder. Her eyes darted, annoyed, at his hand.

“I bought you a present though, sorry it’s a little late.” 

Marla took the tiny box from the other woman’s hand, and eased off the lid. She pulled out a beautiful Bajoran earring, it’s two tone chain winking in the summer sunlight.

Seven frowned, watching the colour drain unexpectedly from Marla’s face, before the Bajoran threw a hand to her mouth.

“Uh, Seven, I think I’m going to be sick.” She stood and bolted for the toilet.

Korok looked after her, concerned, “I thought we were done with the morning sickness?”

Seven followed after her friend at a brisk pace, as Korok turned to Jay, “It’s the _afternoon_ too. Bajoran pregnancy, eh? I have _a lot_ to learn.”

Seven followed Marla into the cramped bathroom.

“Get in here!” the Bajoran grabbed the xB’s hand and pulled her into a stall, closing the door. “By the _fucking Prophets,_ Seven! I was right! I was-,” she looked faint.

Annika backed up against the door as Marla dropped to her knees, the Bajoran clutching the toilet as she dryly retched.

“Marla, are you-”

The Bajoran’s breath rattled as she tried not to panic. She kneeled on the floor, one arm around the toilet bowl the other clutching the earring. “This earring-”

“A culturally appropriate gift.” Annika nodded. “Thoughtful.”

“When my Aunt and Uncle nearly lost the farm they sold half the chain from her engagement earring.”

“Yes?”

“Well, when things got better my Uncle replaced what they’d sold. But in latinum instead of gold. He said it was to remind them that things could always be fixed better than they started.”

She pushed the earring into Annika’s hand. The thin, two tone metal chain glinting in the sodium light of the bathroom.

“This isn’t just _like_ my Aunt’s.” Marla looked desperately up at her friend. “I think... I think it _is_ her’s.”

Marla felt a wave of terror crash through her. “My Aunt wouldn’t part with this. No way. It was my grandmother's back in the Cardassian labour camp days and,” her voice cracked “By the Prophets, I think she is really dead.”

“You don’t know that, It could be any earring.” Annika put an awkward hand on Marla’s shoulder.

“How did she have this earring Seven? HOW?” The Bajoran’s voice was growing frantic. “She was an xB and so are you and I think you’re in danger. I think _we’re all_ in danger.”

“You’re being ridiculous, I understand she’s not perfect but-” 

“Seven,” Marla hissed, interrupting the xB. “I think she’s using us for intel.” 

“No.”

“No one has access to our comms traffic like she does,” the Bajoran continued.

“Correct however-,”

“She practically _rebuilt_ the system from the ground up.” Marla cut her off again, speech getting more frantic with each statement.

Seven tried to be the voice of reason. “Because Korok _asked_ her to. Because she’s a good person and-”

“Because she’s building a _network.”_

The emphasis on _'_ _Network_ ’ made it obvious that Marla seemed to think that this was proof of some secret, grand scheming. Seven sighed.

“Which is precisely what we took her onboard to do.”

Marla was still working herself up into a flurry. Words tumbling out of her as if she couldn’t stop now that she was speaking her thoughts out loud, beginning to see the pattern.

“She could control exactly what messages we received. She would get every distress call first, every xB hate crime,” Marla felt the pieces slotting together in her mind. “You noticed we’ve had less xB related jobs lately?”

“Conditions are improving and-”

“Things aren’t getting better, Seven,” Marla’s locked eyes with the xB.

“What exactly are you saying?”

“I think Jay’s,” Marla trailed off, “Jay’s the reason my Aunt is dead.”

“Just stop. How can she be what you’re saying? She spends so much time and money on helping people. Doing commendable things. Not just in Fenris but on Freecloud too. She just donated a wave harmonic modulator to the opera house.”

“So, social climbing?”

“She treats me like a person, Marla!” Annika snapped, “Do you understand what it’s like to not have that?”

“Honestly Seven, Jake was right when he left. She treats you like shi-”

“You’re wrong.” The xB interrupted “You don’t understand. She gave me a _home,_ Marla. I’d never had a home before. And I didn’t care that the air filter dripped or the elevator always smelled like piss. That first place? Our first apartment on Freecloud. I was happy, I had-”

“You can do better.” 

“Can I? Really?” Ani sighed, “The last person I loved had me sleep in the cargo hold, did you know that?”

“Who the hell made you sleep in a, ah, ah- _CHOO!”_

Annika paused as the sneezing fit continued.

The Bajoran froze as the bathroom door creaked open with her seventh sneeze.

“Should I be getting jealous of you two?” Bjayzl laughed.

Marla listened to the sound of Jay rummaging around in her purse.

“Not stealing your girl, Jay.” Marla forced herself to laugh. “Seven’s just here holding my hair for me.”

Annika unlocked the stall door and stuck her head out to smile ruefully at Jay,

“Sorry, we will be out in a minute.”

Jay gave her a sensual smile in the mirror before focusing on herself again and smoothing deep red lipstick on. She pouted at herself, before smirking in satisfaction and closing the lipstick with a snap. 

“Well hurry back, I’m not sure I can take another Bajoran birth drumming solo.” Jay smirked. “No wonder Iden never has any customers.” She said with a laugh and left back for the restaurant floor. 

Marla sighed in relief, waiting until the click of Jay’s heels faded, before turning back to Annika. “What did you say her business is on Freecloud?” 

“She part-owns a bar.”

“And?” Marla waved her hand in the air to be pulled up.

“Technology refurb,” Ani took her hand carefully and gently helped her up, “selling on used parts.”

Marla raised her eyebrows, “Wave harmonic modulator; _one careful owner?”_

Annika looked torn. “Marla, I know you think you’ve uncovered a conspiracy but-”

“We’ve _got_ to get the full story.” The Bajoran said, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “You might not want to believe it but _this_ proves it to me.” She took the earring back from the xB’s hand.

“Maybe if we talk to Icheb, he’s got a good eye for this sort of detail, we can-”

“No.” Annika said firmly. “I’m not _investigating_ Jay. I love her.”

“No, Seven,” Marla said sadly, “I don’t think you even know who she is.”

* * *

Raffi sat at the top of the stairs, looking down toward the cargo hold.

_Hugh had said Seven was in there. Said she’d be ok._

Raffi’s stomach knotted painfully.

Hugh had also said he’d found her crying although he’d refused to elaborate any further. Raffi could just about hear the EMH talking with him and Cris further down along the upper deck. She felt relieved that Seven didn’t need _his_ holographic attention right now. 

_Right,_ she steeled herself, as she rubbed the back of her neck anxiously. She padded quietly down the stairs and approached the door.

“Seven?” Raffi spoke into the door console, her words crept apprehensively through the quiet space. “Seven, you there?”

_No answer._

“Seven I wondered if we could talk?”

_Silence._

“Or maybe _I_ could just talk.”

Raffi held the comms command space on the door console and slid it down, it flashed dull orange, locking the audio link open.

“And if you don’t want to speak to me you don’t have to.”

She turned to lean against the wall, her head cushioned by her hair as she sighed.

“And if you don’t wanna listen either then you can just close the audio from your side, ok? I’ll understand.”

The unbroken hum of the open comm filled the cramped space as Raffi’s eyes slid closed. The barely audible digital static holding up her fragile heart in her chest.

_How did that feel like success? When just hours ago she was..._

She sighed and the familiar smell of Seven’s shirt caught her attention, and her heart ached.

_How had she fucked this up?_

_Why did she_ **_always_ ** _have to fuck everything up?_

“I’m an asshole.” Raffi said flatly. “And I’m sorry.”

She took a steadying breath.

“I was upset. And I can’t even say I wasn’t thinking straight. I said what I said because I _knew_ it would hurt.”

“It was cruel.” Her stomach twisted in guilt as she corrected herself. _“I_ was cruel. I hurt you and what’s worse is I think I _meant_ to. But I-, I didn’t know about your son, Seven.”

Raffi’s gaze dropped to the metal grating underfoot. The low hum of the nearby warp core resonating in the metal and against her chest.

“I wouldn’t have said what I said if I had.” It felt like a knife in her chest. “Oh god, it was so _completely_ outta line. I-“

She ran her palms across her face and took another slow breath.

“I’m so sorry. You were only trying to help. And after that call I just, I-” She thought about Gabe and the baby and the knife twisted deeper. She clenched her teeth.

 _Not about you right now, Raffi._ She warned herself. _It’s not always about you._

“There’s no excuse for how I spoke to you.” Raffi said with a deep sigh, watching dust drift slowly in the orange glow around the floor level lights. The gentle motion suddenly disturbed as the gust of her breath made the motes bob and spiral.

“But for _context_ he, Gabe,” she added, “my son, hasn’t been around for so long and then when you said about _‘fo_ _rgetting’,_ I couldn’t take it. I’ve wanted him back in my life for years now. It’s not something I deserve after how I treated him, but there was just a second there on that call when I thought he might have wanted me to be,” She trailed off, unable to bring herself to say _‘to be his Mom again.’_

“And now I haven’t just fucked things up with him but I think I just threw away the best thing that’s happened to me in _years._ I completely understand if you don’t want to have anything to do with me after what I said,”

Raffi felt her stomach clench, her eyes begin to sting.

 _No, you’re not putting that on her too,_ she thought as she fought back the urge to cry.

Raffi laced her hands around the back of her neck, draping her elbows together.

“I’m sorry, Seven. I don’t,” she coughed trying to stop her voice from breaking, “I don’t know how to tell you how much I _wish_ I hadn’t said what I did. Other than just,” she trailed off pathetically. 

“I’m sorry. Unreservedly so.”

She hung her head, “Did I mention the asshole thing?”

The light on the console flickered momentarily, picking up input from the other side of the bulkhead.

“You could, perhaps, stand to mention it again.”

Raffi’s heart leapt as the door hissed open. The corridor light picked out the outline of Seven, the xB already turning back into the room after opening the door.

“The lights?” Seven asked.

“No, no, this is fine.” Raffi said, cautiously making her way over to sit on a crate as the door slid closed. “You want to sit in the dark? I can deal. Whatever you want, Seven.”

The door slid closed squeezing out the last of the light. Raffi blinked. Or didn’t. It was impossible to tell. 

“I’ve been hurt a lot,” Seven slid onto the crate to Raffi’s right. “I think you might be the first one who was actually sorry about it.”

“Uh-uh, not good enough.” Raffi shook her head. Swinging her legs, heels thumping softy against the duratanium plating of the crate. “I don’t want you settling for the lowest standard you think you deserve.”

Seven didn’t answer.

“I’m,” Raffi gripped the edge of the cargo container as if to steady herself before continuing.

“I’m so sorry about your son.”

“How do you know?“

“Rios,” Raffi answered, “he said the woman who had Maddox-“

 _“Bjayzl,”_ Seven interrupted, bitterly.

“He said she,” Raffi stumbled over her words, “he said you had to,” Raffi trailed off, the brutal reality of it sinking it.

“There was no other option.” Seven murmured. “It was a kindness.”

“God, Seven,” Raffi breathed, “I’m so sorry, and then what I said, I-”

“You weren’t wrong though,” Seven added. “I _don’t_ have any family now.”

 _“Honey,”_ Raffi’s heart felt like it could break. “Is there no one back on Earth?”

“My relatives weren’t from Sol, we weren’t a large family to begin with and my parents were assimilated along with me. They might be still out there as drones. No way to know.”

Raffi felt guilt for being so distressed about a Romulan family dinner. _It seemed so petty in comparison._

“What about friends?” Raffi tried hopefully.

“I wasn’t particularly successful in making many.” The xB thought about the photo on Hugh’s palm holo. Thought of Tom’s arm slung around her shoulders.

“The closest thing I had to family was the crew on Voyager and that’s a long story.”

“I knew there had to be someone! Sounds like a lot of history.” Raffi said, pulling her legs up onto the crate to sit cross legged. “Want to tell it?” Suddenly panicking that she'd overstepped.

“Of course you don’t _have_ to,” Raffi flustered, “I just thought, if it helps?”

“I’m uncertain where to begin.” Seven sighed.

The darkness hung heavily over the OPS officer’s eyes. 

“I’d say _the beginning_ sounds like a safe bet.” Raffi answered softly.

Faint, drifting sparks of colour danced at the edge of Raffi’s vision, she couldn’t be certain if they were in the room or behind her eyelids. Knowing that Seven could see her in the total darkness, and feeling a wild, desperate _hope_ take root in her chest, she unfolded a cautious hand. Resting it, palm upturned, on her own knee. A quiet invitation in a quieter room.

Seven ran a hand through her hair, taking a long slow breath. Her ocular implant focused gently on Raffi’s open hand. 

_She’d been hurt before, and all too often._

But in the darkness of the cargo bay she watched Raffi’s unseeing expression hover between uncertainty and a thin, tentative hope.

_And, oh god, she could use some hope._

It had always been someone taking Seven’s hand; first Kathryn, then Jay. Taking her hand and dragging her wherever it was _they_ wanted her to go.

_Maybe this time could be different?_

_Maybe what she needed wasn’t someone to show her where to go. But someone to wait for her instead._

Seven hovered a metal laced hand above Raffi’s open palm for just a moment, before taking the other woman’s hand in hers.

“I was born on Tendara Colony,” she began, “the ionic fluctuations at the poles meant that the winters were colder than anywhere else in the system.”

Seven felt Raffi’s fingers interlace with her own with a single gentle squeeze. The edge of her mouth curled to a slight smile as she saw Raffi’s nervous expression blossom into bright relief in the darkness. 

“But sometimes, in summer,” Seven continued, her words as soft and steady as Raffi’s thumb brushing reassuringly against her knuckle, “if you looked hard enough in the hills behind the terraforming pylons, there were wild strawberries.”

“And if you stayed out long enough where they grew, then by the time night fell, it was like you could see the whole quadrant stretching out above you…”

Raffi listened attentively in the hushed darkness. It wasn't the voice of a larger than life Fenris Ranger. Not a Delta Quadrant hero or a living legend.

Just a tired, hurt, _hopeful_ stranger.

A tired, hurt, hopeful stranger that Raffi desperately wanted to understand. Who she couldn’t bear to hurt like that again.

Raffi sat and listened. Her heart _achingly_ grateful at the feeling of Seven’s hand in hers. 

_She wanted to understand._

Raffi squeezed Seven’s hand, hoping the message was clear. That she’d sit and listen as long as it took. That she wanted to listen. That she wanted to learn.

Seven smiled softly in reply to Raffi’s sweet, gentle expression as the OPS officer listened, before remembering the other woman couldn’t see her. 

She looked down at their interlaced fingers in the darkness and then, casting aside her hesitation, Seven squeezed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Arelithil over at [Mapping La Sirena,](https://mappinglasirena.tumblr.com/post/622661690751844352/set-layout-first-thoughts) for La Sirena floor plan consultation. What an absolute _gift_ to the fandom to have some like them around to answer questions such as “So if Seven is high tailing it out of Raffi’s quarters and the bridge is full, the holodeck is _sad,_ where can she run to?”
> 
> Hugh being born into the collective is a lovely take on the canon from [Naturalization,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477805/chapters/59080240)  
> by Melospiza_melodia. A fic with just some of the most beautiful Hugh and Seven feelings I've read, I’m in awe.
> 
> Thanks to Spinifex for making the Bajoran earring angst _worse_ than it needed to be!
> 
> Raffi’s tentative hand hold feels was in part inspired by Seven in [The slow walk towards a better life,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24318814/chapters/58628704) by asianscaper, every chapter of which so far has destroyed me. Send help.
> 
> Cargo bay doors in this chapter are following the time honoured Star Trek tradition of opening according to narrative beats and _not_ according to any logical proximity sensor system :p
> 
> The star chart Hugh particularly liked was of the [Yontasa Expanse.](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Yontasa_Expanse) An area of the Delta Quadrant where Voyager searched through a Borg debris field when searching for a replacement cortical node for Seven after hers began to fail. When they were unsuccessful Icheb donated his to Seven to save her life. Afterwards, I like to think Seven really took her time on her star chart of that particular part of space :')
> 
> Thanks for reading! New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	12. Charts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the _global relay team_ of Beta readers this week, Lintila and Spinifex, because it turns out that me changing jobs _and_ writing a chapter do not happen smoothly in the same week!
> 
> (CW: discussion around alcoholism, allusion to past occasions of implied dubious consent between Annika and Bjayzl as well as one much more extended current one. A heads up if you need one x)

The EMH’s advice rolled around in Rios’ mind as he made his way down the stairs to the mess.

_“After that subspace call she’s had a difficult emotional setback. That could prompt a relapse into problematic use of alcohol.”_

_“What can I do?”_

_“My suggestion? A dry ship. For now at least.”_

Rios paused between the replicator and a galley table, resting his hands on his hips with a sigh before saying decisively to the air, “Computer: transport all alcoholic drinks on board to the forward mess table.”

A motley collection of bottles faded into view on the table next to him, their glass sides softly clinking against each other.

_More than he’d thought._

He lifted his personal, private bottle of Chilean Pisco. The unopened bottle beamed directly from his secret hiding place. He tugged a strand of packing straw loose from the red wax around the cork and let it fall to the floor.

 _This was going to be a good one,_ he thought sadly.

“A little early to start, don’t you think, Captain?” Picard smiled wryly as he walked over, looking over the collection of bottles.

“Something like that.” Rios huffed, “They’re all going I’m afraid. Gonna be a dry ship for a while.”

“Oh?” Picard looked intrigued as he sat down at the mess table. Picking up a bottle of his own Chateau’s wine.

“Raffi’s had a knock back, I’m looking out for her.”

Picard put the bottle down with the rest, “Surely this is overkill?”

“Picard, you knew Raffi before, I met her _after._ If I had even a _mediocre_ bordeaux stored out on the landing gear then I’d be locking up the EV suits right now. If she’s anything like last time the alcohol is first and then the horgl is next.”

“She worked hard to get clean,” Rios said, “clean-ish at least. I’m not letting her throw it away.”

He jutted his chin at two bottles of Chateau Picard.

“How much?”

“Hmm?”

“How much do you want for them? They look expensive, and they’re about to get _reclimated_ so…”

Picard waved a hand dismissively, “I don’t need compensating for a couple of bottles of my own wine, Rios.”

“Good,” Rios nodded. “Because I’d have to give you an I.O.U.”

The Captain picked up a tall, thin glass bottle, the liquid inside a dark syrupy blue. He tilted it and watched plump, alcohol-swollen fruits tumble slowly over each other. The heavy parchment label was exquisitely hand lettered in ornate, calligraphic Romulan. It looked like a page from an illuminated religious text. A heavily stylised, fanged animal wound its way around the edge of the indecipherable name. Rios angled the bottle to the mess hall lights, and raised his eyebrows as the light gleamed cleanly off the hand-tipped, gilded spots in the illustrated animal's fur.

“Elnor?” Cris shouted to the upper deck, “Hey, Elnor?”

“Yes?” The Romulan’s face appeared over the edge of the rail, his dark hair gliding over his shoulders and draping past his face. Hugh Two peeked his black-and-ginger nose down at the noise from between Elnors feet, his whiskers twitching.

“What is this?” Rios held up the bottle.

“Lehe'jhme berry wine. It’s Zani’s speciality.” He said brightly over the railing, before walking round the edge of the well toward the stairs, with a Holo-cat for a shadow.

“The berries are tended in the courtyard of The House of Truth, but the alcohol we trade with Rategian Abbots,” he said, ambling down the stairs into the mess.

“Is it rare or something?” Rios asked, squinting at the little bubbles in what he suspected was hand blown glass.

“It’s unheard of to be gifted a bottle.” Elnor smiled proudly, “I think Zani believed I would very likely die with Picard.”

The Admiral raised his eyebrows and shook his head, amused, though not exactly surprised. 

“I suspect she gave it to me out of guilt. I haven’t opened it yet. It’s for a special occasion.”

Rios’ stomach sank. _This was going to be harder than he’d realised. Maybe he shouldn’t even ask?_

“Listen, kid.” He began, thinking through the words he’d been mulling over just in case. “Raffi’s got a… well a _history_ with alcohol and I want to make it as easy for her as I can. Now I _understand_ that-“

Elnor plucked the bottle from the Captain’s hands. Neatly put it into the replicator, and with a long finger clicked _‘reclimate’._

Cris watched the ornate bottle disperse into glowing blue nothingness. 

“But...I had a speech.” Rios said, a little pathetically, as the last of the blue particles shimmered out of view under the bright white light of the replicator. “Can you get another?”

“Oh, _absolutely_ not. There are only three bottles made each year and they all go to other monasteries for service use. The label alone took four people a month to craft.”

Elnor pantomimed painting with one hand. 

“I do the gold leaf.”

“Wasn’t that valuable?” Rios said, his eyes shifting between the empty space in the replicator to the young man’s earnest expression, as the little cat deftly leapt up Elnor’s robes to settle on his shoulders.

 _“Extremely_ , yes.” The Romulan nodded. 

“I-“ Cris started guiltily.

“But Raffi is _more_ valuable.” Elnor said matter of factly and nodded once with a smile, before setting off back up the stairs at a trot, a kind hand steadying the cat as he went.

“Hugh? Want to hear about manuscript painting?”

 _“Huh.”_ Rios blinked watching the nun disappear off in search of his… _well whatever was going on between the two of them._

He scratched his beard thoughtfully and smiled. “Good kid.”

“One down,” Picard caught the Captain’s eye before looking back to the cluttered table.

Rios cleared his throat, “Computer: Lock _all_ onboard replicators out of alcohol service, except for medical purposes and give sole control of that to the EMH or to Captain Rios _if_ the EMH is offline or otherwise engaged.” He started filling his arms with bottles, before a thought came to him.

“And no meta overrides, either.” He added.

“Even from you?” Steward said, materialising inches from the Captain’s face.

 _“Hijo de puta!”_ Rios yelled in shock, narrowly avoiding dropping the bottles. “Do NOT do that!” He growled at the EHH as Picard hid a grin behind his hand.

“Sorry, I just thought I’d better check, in case you decide you want aguardiente later.” Steward leaned a little, but still not enough, out of the Captain’s personal space.

“No. Meta. Overrides,” Cris repeated. “Remember what happened on DS12?”

The EHH raised his eyebrows in recollection of the drunken bar fight. “Synthehol service only then. As you wish.” He nodded making a note in his folio as he vanished.

“Is it really your job to be doing all this?” Picard helpfully passed Rios a bottle of wine. The Captain took it and added it to his collection.

“If Raffi falls off the wagon, well then, that’s _not_ my fault.” Cris said as he lifted the bottles and pushed them, rattling, into the replicator. Finally he took his steel hip flask from the table and unscrewed the lid, decanting the remaining pisco into the neck of a half-empty bottle of bourbon. 

“But if she does so on _my ship?”_

He shook out the last drops into the bottle before considering the hip flask for a second. With a shrug, tossed that in too.

“Then that means _I_ had a hand in it,” he said as he punched the _‘reclimate’_ command with the side of his closed fist.

“And that's not acceptable.”

* * *

Raffi watched the colour seep back into the shadows as bronze Coppelian sunlight eased through the little window. As La Sirena hung in orbit above the planet, the light of the Ghulion system's star fell gently across the two of them. Raffi smiled as the soft glow caressed Seven’s hair. Softly lit waves framed the xB’s face as she lifted her eyes to the light, pausing for thought in the middle of her story.

Raffi wasn’t sure how long they'd sat in the cool gloom of the cargo bay. The only indication of the steady passage of time being the growing ache in Raffi’s knee from her current position, cross-legged on the crate, and the slow and steady thaw of the air between the two of them.

Seven was describing being abducted and forced to fight as entertainment for others. That would be horrifying enough had Raffi still not been reeling from the previous string of stories. The light from the cargo bay window picked out the edge of a screw in the implant that curled around the xB’s eye. Raffi wasn’t sure what was worse; imagining it being drilled into the face of a child or it being torn out from the body of an adult. 

A shaft of light cut through the window, pushing the little archipelagos of dirt from the duraglass into broken shadows on the floor. Raffi shuddered at the description of Icheb’s death. The thought of Seven facing the same fate as her son made her feel sick. The xB had glossed over some of the details, it was clearly still painful, but in the broad sense Raffi understood the story. A deception and a betrayal from someone Seven had loved, and an _unimaginably_ painful price to pay for choosing to put her trust in someone.

Raffi’s gaze dropped to the palm holo that sat like a green campfire between them. It displayed a hovering image of Norcadia Prime. 

“-after that, further escape attempts from the facility proved futile.”

The OPS officer shook her head and tried to slot the latest detail into her building timeline of Seven’s history.

“So the, er, fight to the death was that _before_ or _after_ the Emergency Medical Hologram and the cheesecake incident?”

“Before,” Seven nodded _,_ smiling despite herself at Raffi’s turn of phrase.

“Hard to keep track,” Raffi rested her chin on her hand and listened. She’s stopped telling herself it couldn’t get any worse. Every time she’d thought that so far it _had._

Raffi quickly began to realise the difference in between reading the mission debrief reports of Seven’s experiences on Voyager (many of them were required reading in the years after Voyager’s return) with the version from the xB herself. Raffi could recall the written description of Voyager's encounter with _‘A vinculum infected with a synthetic pathogen that had caused irregularities with the ‘Borg crewman’._ She compared that official account with the description of the fear, confusion and panic Seven described at having multiple individuals take over her mind. 

“If that was me I just wouldn’t have left my quarters for the rest of the trip,” Raffi tucked her knees up against her chest. 

“I didn’t have quarters.” Seven said flatly.

“Wait, how?” Raffi looked confused, “You were on that ship for _years_ right?”

Seven watched the cool air prickle at the hairs on Raffi’s arms. She shrugged off her jacket and passed it to the other woman. “It makes sense. In the beginning I was somewhere between a threat and an experiment.”

Seven smiled at the sight of Raffi easing her arms through the sleeves.

“I was Kathryn’s _project_ so to speak.”

Raffi didn’t let herself wince at the word, as much as the implied ownership stung. Her intelligence training helped her to keep a straight face.

“But didn’t you say you were babysitting a crewman’s kid? Naomi was it?” Raffi continued, “So surely by _that_ point?”

Seven shook her head. “I tried it out once, on the holodeck.”

“What?”

“Having quarters,” she clarified with a small quirk of her chin. “I was going to have a painting on the wall.” 

_There it was again,_ _it just kept getting worse,_ thought Raffi as she felt her heart breaking. The idea of Seven making a holographic room because the Captain hadn’t seen fit to give her a real one. _Whose wildest holodeck fantasy is just ‘a normal life’?_

“Didn’t want much, did you?” Raffi pinched the projection on the palm holo, and carefully corralled the pity out of her tone. The holo-image zoomed back out into stars. “What was your painting of?”

“I didn’t get it in the end. I was asked to terminate the simulation. But was going to be a painting of a star chart,” Seven looked fondly at the holo-image between them.

 _“Nerd,”_ Raffi chuckled fondly, relieved as Seven laughed too. “How you’ve convinced the Quadrant you're some super cool Ranger I’ve _no_ idea.”

“The jacket helps,” Seven said flatly but with a curl at the corner of her mouth.

“That it does!” Raffi agreed, popping the collar against her own neck, “I’ve seen your astrometrics work though, it _is_ impressive.”

“Thanks,” the xB smiled.

“So what happened to them, the Voyager lot I mean?” Raffi asked, uncrossing her legs and grimacing at the sharp prickle of pins and needles.

“We just lost touch.”

“What, with all of them?” Raffi asked, covering the shock in her voice.

“Some ended in arguments but mostly,” the xB shrugged, “people just _stopped replying.”_

“After you’d been through all that together?” Raffi’s intelligence training faltered as her eyebrows arched.

Seven nodded.

The silence hung for a moment before she reached out and pinched the star chart closed.

“I just wish I knew what I did wrong,” Seven said and clicked the palm holo off. “The advantage of the Collective at least was that you never knew what alone felt like.”

 _You don’t have to be alone,_ Raffi wanted to say. But it felt too saccharine, to insincere in the shadow of her recent behaviour. She settled for resting her hand gently on Seven’s wrist.

“I know what we need,” Raffi said, hoping to make the xB smile, “we need breakfast, or...lunch? I’m not actually sure how long we’ve been in here.”

“Five hours and thirty eight minutes,” Seven said, not missing a beat.

“Well then! I think that earns us a trip into the Cristobal-Rios-Earth-Appreciation supply store!”

Raffi smiled and slid off the crate. Hands on hips, she tapped her heel against the metal plates of the floor, listening each time until she found the hollow one she was looking for and dropped to her knees.

“Cris won’t mind so long as we don’t touch his bottle of pisco,” she said as she eased her fingers under the triangular metal floor plate and prised it open. 

Raffi peered into the gloom under the cargo bay floor. Eyes adjusting, she squinted at a little thin wooden crate. The packing straw compressed like a mould into the space around where a good bottle of pisco _should_ be.

 _That’s odd._ She thought, before spotting what she was looking for. Raffi leaned on her stomach to reach down for the box. The cargo bay floor was cold against her stomach as her shirt rolled up. Seven watched with interest as Raffi hauled out the box with a groan and pried off the lid, the smell of citrus clinging to the raw pallet wood. 

“Cris always orders a box of these for when he gets homesick, but I don’t think he’ll mind if we take one or two.”

Raffi smoothed down the curling Spanish label: 

_Producto de Chile, autorizado para la exportación de Sol-3._

Inside heavy navel oranges nestled against each other. The occasional deep green spear of a leaf striking up between the dimpled skins. Raffi smiled as she plucked one from the box and considered it carefully.

“Here,” she said, handing one to the xB with a grin before beginning to peel her own. Seven knew Raffi was trying to make her smile; it was like she couldn’t help trying to help people. Grateful happiness welled up in her chest listening to Raffi reminisce about ‘the old days’ with Rios, as Raffi tried to make her smile.

 _Raffi’s intelligence training was good,_ Seven thought. She watched the OPS officer appraise her mood in between glances and tweak her anecdote to suit. Seven was fairly sure Raffi thought she was managing to do so unnoticed. Either way, Seven listened and felt grateful at the effort Raffi took to elevate her mood. Seven tried to think whether anyone else had tried this hard with her before, she felt a pang of affection at the effort.

Raffi eased her thumb between the segments of the fruit, the membrane breaking as two stubbornly connected sections broke apart. Juice welled out from the orange’s flesh. Seven eyes tracked a thin, trickling line of sweetness roll down Raffi's wrist. 

Seven swallowed as she watched Raffi absentmindedly flick her tongue against it. Before freezing as the other woman looked up unexpectedly. Seven tried not to blush.

“Thank you for listening.” Seven smiled.

“You’re welcome, and thanks,” Raffi ate the last of the orange and stood up, wiping her hand against her pants. She offered the xB her free hand, “for trusting me.”

Seven nodded, and allowed herself to be pulled up. There was a moment where they stood awkwardly together, an arm’s length apart. Raffi gave a nervous shrug and a half-smile, dropping Seven’s hand. Seven desperately wanted to reach out to Raffi, intending to pull her closer. But the other woman turned and set about replacing the crate and the floor plate. Raffi picked up an orange for later and tucked it into the pocket of the borrowed leather jacket, before turning back to Seven.

“Done with the cargo hold?” She asked, and smiled as Seven nodded.

The door hissed as the two of them stepped back out into the warmth of the ship, the missing bottle continuing to play on Raffi’s mind.

* * *

Annika carried her and Jay’s bags into the simple spare room above Ha’Dara Guesthouse. 

_Marla was being so ridiculous,_ Ani thought, stacking the bags on top of each other and onto an aged wooden chair by the little window. _All this nonsense about the earring and the crime empire and Bjayzl being..._

She pushed away the thought.

There were things they needed to get done when the group of them were together in one place like this. The tactical briefing, the plan for the southern raiders and, of course, the weapons supply run was also going to need doing tomorrow. 

_Jay was Jay._

But in the interests of putting her friend’s mind at ease, Annika walked over to the small desk and tapped the computer console off stand-by.

“Computer: begin a twelve hour bio-data log of neurological function and save it to my personal memory bank.”

_“Specify source.”_

“Me.” 

She rubbed the back of her augmented hand with resignation, before willing the assimilation tubules to activate. She grimaced as the tapered tips pierced through her skin from below. She felt the metal edges graze familiarly against the wet sandpaper surface of a metacarpal as a pair of thin tritanium tubes extended out and interfaced with the computer.

“Save a base pattern of my neurological biochemistry for reference.”

 _“Pattern saved.”_ The computer beeped dully in reply.

“Now, use the following nanoprobes as an active access point to receive continuous readings transmitted by my cortical implant.”

_“Continuous recording confirmed. Please designate File Reference.”_

“Call it,” she paused, cocking her head in thought, “I told you so,” she finished smugly. 

“Then attach and transmit to Bareil Marla’s subspace link when completed.”

The rest of the evening passed unremarkably in the rented rooms above the little restaurant. Marla had excused herself to bed early, complaining of sickness. Annika felt relieved she didn't have to talk about the earring theory again as she hugged her friend goodnight and pulled the door softly closed behind her. Meanwhile, Korok and Bjayzl had left to run errands and it was sunset by the time the two of them returned.

The blazing summer sun bruised the sky into deep red and purple welts as it set, throwing the shadows of the broken Fenris skyline across the room and over the bed where the xB sat reading. Annika looked up from her PADD as Jay slid through the door. The comms specialist shrugged off her jacket and slung it over the bed post before leaning to shut the door. Muffling the sound of a sneezing fit coming from the door across the hallway.

Annika smiled at the other woman and felt a wave of warm, comfortable contentment wash over her as Bjayzl smiled back.

Jay sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off her heels, rubbing the arches of her feet, and turned to Ani. “Good book?”

“I’m researching whether paranoia is a symptom of Bajoran pregnancy.” The xB replied as Jay fluffed the pillows and crawled next to her on the bed.

“Oh, who knows? _Probably,”_ Jay scoffed and rolled her eyes. She eased closer to the xB and gently took the PADD from her hand, tossing it to the end of the bed before sighing into the soft skin of Annika’s neck, “What _isn’t_ a symptom _,_ between the need for all that drumming nonsense and the _sneezing?”_

“Anyway, what makes you think,” Jay continued, grazing her lips along the soft skin of Annika’s neck, “that she's paranoid?”

“She was coming out with all these ridiculous-“ Anika squirmed delightedly as Jay gently nipped her earlobe between her teeth, “-theories.”

“Mm-hmm, about?” Bjayzl prompted carefully, her fingers ghosting over the smooth skin of Ani’s stomach along the rucked up edge of her shirt. 

“About everything really, though I suppose mostly about _you-”_ the word stretched into a soft moan, the xB’s lips parted as Jay began a trial of biting kisses down her neck. 

“Well I _am_ pretty interesting.”

Ani laughed, “Regardless, I think she’s managed to convince herself you’ve got some kind of _crime empire.”_

“Oh _absolutely.”_ Jay scoffed, her breath hot against Ani’s collar bone and her voice dripping with sarcasm. “A little fanciful don’t you think? She’s already making up crazy bedtime stories and the baby isn’t born yet.”

“Honestly, that’s not the most ridiculous part.” Ani smirked, wildly distracted as Jay began tracing lazy circles across the delicate skin at the hollow of her hip.

“What is?” Bjayzl pried, watching with interest as the other woman sat up and shrugged off her leather jacket and discarded it to the floor.

 _“You_ and how you’re actually,” Ani stood and took a few steps across the room to slide the thin curtain across as the red sun hid beneath the horizon, “really some kind of _secret empath.”_

“Well,” Jay purred, propping herself up on one elbow, keenly watching Ani walk back from the window.

“I _do_ know what’s on your mind right now,” her voice low and treacle sweet in the dark, “does _that_ count?”

“I really don’t think it would require a _Betazoid_ for that one,” Ani smirked, climbing back onto the bed, her knees either side of Jay’s hips as she pushed her back against the pillow.

 _“But you’re not wrong.”_ Ani smiled into their kiss.

A thin morning light pushed through the windows. Annika stretched and reached over for her lover, finding the bed empty and the sheets cold.

 _She must have left with Marla on the weapons supply run,_ Ani thought, sliding out of bed and pulling on clothes.

A harsh beep caught her attention as a freshly completed data scan flashed up on the previously dormant desk console.

“ _Bio-data log status: Complete.”_ The computer said, flatly. _“Preparing bio-data log for Subspace transfer.”_

Annika stooped to pick her jacket from the floor, stopping to smile at the memory of the night before. She slid an arm through the jacket's sleeve, shivering as the cold lining ran smoothly against her skin. She glanced at the progress bar and clicked _‘review’_ on the file as it prepared to send.

The xB smirked smugly at the steady, gentle curve of her emotional responses throughout the evening. A low rise of cortisol around the mission briefing with Korok, a few short elevations during the discussion of the issue with the raiders, a gentle peak of dopamine later during her hug with Marla. 

Annika’s gaze scanned lazily along as the data scrolled past in gentle waves before she stopped dead at a huge, sudden spike. Her eyes climbed up and up a jagged surge in neurotransmitters. The peaks of which pierced through a line of _‘safe threshold’_ at the top of the graph, tips red and jagged, like a keen row of butcher’s knives. 

She felt a chill creep up her neck. She tried to shake it off, keeping her tone calm as she voiced a question.

“Computer: was the data processor in this station malfunctioning around-”

She looked at the time stamp.

“ -twenty one hundred hours?”

_“All systems operating within normal parameters.”_

She gritted her teeth, this was _obviously_ some kind of error. _She hadn’t used her nanoprobes like this since Voyager,_ she thought. _It had to be an error._

“Did the nanoprobes used in the data collection experience a system malfunction?

_“All systems operating within normal parameters.”_

“Then was my cortical implant transmitting data accurately at that time.”

_“All systems operating within normal parameters.”_

The computer's voice faded away as she considered the time of the spike, _21:00 hours,_ she thought, suspicion bristling uncomfortably under her skin.

 _Twenty one hundred hours..._ _was that… sunset?_

Annika’s stomach felt icy cold. The walls too close and her mouth too dry as she scrolled through the data. Her jaw clenched tighter still as she watched the elevated readings drop like a cliff edge at 07:23.

Annika hesitated, not wanting to know the answer to the question that was forming like a stone in her throat.

“Computer, what time did Bjayzl leave this room this morning?”

Annika’s eyes locked on the 07:23 time stamp on the graph as she listened to the computers agonisingly slow reply.

_“Bjayzl (Fenris Ranger ID-047: Subspace communications specialist, security level alpha) exited the specified room at oh seven twenty three.”_

_Fuck_.

_FUCK._

The xB could feel her heart slamming in panic against her ribs.

“Computer, where is she now?”

Annika nervously drummed her fingers against the desk as the computer read through Bjayzl’s Ranger ID and clearance.

_“-ity level alpha) departed the Ha’Dara premises 23 minutes and 15 seconds ago with Beiral M-“_

_“-Marla.”_ Annika finished the computer’s sentence and bolted for the door. The desk console continued announcing placidly to the empty room and the unmade bed.

_“Bio-data log preparation for Subspace transfer, status: Complete.”_

_“Recipient: Bareil Marla (Fenris Ranger ID-013: Weapons specialist, security level alpha)”_

_“File Designation: “I told you so”_

_“Transfer complete.”_

* * *

Rios glanced at the unchanged helm control readout before turning the page of his book. The geostationary orbit didn’t really _need_ his attention but he’d wanted an excuse to stick around on deck for when Raffi emerged. 

“Your not so super-secret bottle was missing.” Raffi said as she wandered onto the quiet bridge, the sleeves of the Ranger’s borrowed jacket pushed up to her elbows and her thumb working under the skin of an orange.

“The hell were you doing in my hold, Raffi?” Cris said looking up, annoyed, from his book.

“I wanted a snack,” she shrugged, tucking the loosened peel into her palm and prising apart the fruit.

Rios closed his book around a finger to mark his spot and spun the captain’s chair to face her fully.

“You can’t just violate a man’s privacy ‘cos you’re hungry.” He scowled, though his eyes were kind as he recognised Seven’s jacket around his friend.

Raffi pulled a segment loose and popped it in her mouth. “The oranges are _real_ nice this time by the way,” she said with a cheeky grin, before offering him a piece.

“You’re an asshole.” He sighed as he leaned to take the segment.

“I know, but you still love me.”

 _“Begrudgingly”_ he agreed, mouth full as he chewed.

She laughed. 

“So,” she came to a stop and leaned against his chair. 

“I’m guessing you didn’t get rid of the _good_ pisco for the hell of it? What was it? Crewman crying, better airlock the bottles?” She waved a hand loosely in the air before folding her arms. “Or was it Doctors’ orders?”

“Let’s call it EMH’s recommendation, _Captain's_ orders. I’m not getting outranked here.” He replied, rising from the conn to stretch his back. Cris dismissed the holo-controls and allowed the automatic systems to kick in. He took in the sight of the copper crescent of the planet below, hanging in the dark of the window, as La Sirena kept pace above a sleeping Synthville.

The OPS officer huffed. “Who told you you’re allowed to babysit me, anyway?” 

“My ship, Raf,” he shrugged and pulled a cigar out of his pocket, “I do what I like.”

“I could get insulted y’know?” She said, raising her eyebrows.

“Be my guest.” He smirked, reflexively tucking his cigar into the corner of his smile. After a second thought, he chose not to light it.

“Just,” Raffi's shoulders dropped in a small sigh, she cocked her head and smiled gratefully at her friend, “thanks, babe,” she said. 

She threaded her arms around his waist to pull him into a comfortable hug, orange held out so as not to stain his clothes. He folded his arms around her, nose twitching as her hair tickled his face. He rested a hand, still half tucked in his book, on the cool leather of her back.

“You talk things out with the Ranger, then?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed, her face pressed into the tobacco-laced warmth of his collar.

“And?” 

“And I think I patched us up,” she said before pulling away. “what ever _us_ is.”

“I think maybe you’re Seven’s,” he thought before nodding at the fruit in Raffi’s hand, _“media naranja.”_

“What’s that? I’m her half-orange?” Raffi chuckled. “Forgive me if I _don’t_ use that one.”

“Better in Spanish,” he shrugged with a smile. “Either way I haven’t seen you go this soft for anyone in, well, ever.”

“I just don’t wanna screw it up,” she said thoughtfully, before adding _“again,”_ as she distractedly picked at a thin strand of orange pith and added it to the peel in her palm, “Seven’s _something else,_ Cris. All the things she’s done.”

 _The things that were done **to** her._ Raffi added, silently.

“She really deserves someone _good.”_

Rios scoffed.

“If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t exactly ended up with a crew of innocents here?” He laughed, before adding, “No one gets all of it right, Raf. But you’re a good person. A _great_ one. Despite what you tell yourself.” His voice rang with honest admiration, before he cleared his throat and glanced away.

Raffi looked over her friend, as he distracted himself by folding the book's dust jacket over his page as a bookmark. Grateful for his warmth and his understanding and his lack of pity. She found herself unable to suppress a smile.

“A great person _most of the time_ , anyway,” he said, gesturing in her direction, promptly dismissing sentiment from the bridge and pretending to be annoyed. He flicked his eyes at the stolen fruit pointedly and jabbed at her with his unlit cigar, “but if I catch you stealing from my hold again-“ 

“I know, I know,” She raised her eyebrows, “airlocked, right?” 

_“Absolutamente,”_ he clapped her on the shoulder warmly and grinned.

* * *

That evening Raffi padded along the deck on her way to the holosuite, spotting Hugh talking over the viewscreen on the bridge. Hugh seemed to be on a subspace call with a Synth representative. Snatches of the conversation drifted through the air as she got closer.

 _“-glad to see you safe and well Director,”_ the gold-skinned Synth nodded, _“the xB’s with us have been most distressed.”_

“Well I have Seven here to thank for my brave rescue,” Hugh said warmly, a hand resting briefly at the other xB’s shoulder, “and the rest of the crew.”

_“We’ve updated the xB’s on your situation, but I think they would be more comforted to see you in person.”_

“I can come down to the planet?” Hugh said hopefully.

 _“I think that would be wise,”_ the Synth nodded, and Raffi could see the side of Hugh’s face shift in what she assumed was a beaming smile in response.

“I can come down to the surface in the next few days. The ship’s Doctor believes I’ve made an almost complete recovery.”

“I’ll accompany you,” Seven added, catching Hugh’s eye, “I’d like to meet some of your xB’s under _calmer_ circumstances than the last time.”

Raffi stopped at the top of the mess stairs, letting Elnor pass as he carefully carried two freshly replicated drinks for his companions on the bridge. The Romulan smiled and nodded in thanks. A cat and a wisp of jasmine-scented steam trailed behind him.

Raffi made her way to the holodeck and activated the station she and Agnes had used when working on Hugh Two.

“Right.” Raffi said cracking her knuckles decisively. “A painting of a star chart.”

Seven had asked for so little on Voyager and had received even less. Raffi wasn’t an artist, but she was going to try.

The OPS officer scrolled through a Federation artwork data bank for a suitable starting point. She dismissed the photorealistic paintings. She knew Seven had perfect recall and suspected that even an artist’s near perfect version of reality would probably come up wanting. Eventually she settled on a painting of the embers of fireworks across a dark sky. The data file was labeled:

_“Nocturne in Black and Gold – The Falling Rocket”_

She downloaded the specifications into the station and a holo-scan of the painting faded into view, hovering upright in the air above the station. The ostentatiously large, gilt frame catching the yellow grid of the holosuite.

With a sweeping flick of her wrist, Raffi transferred an editing grid of the holo-matrix from the station into a glowing green, 3D representation that hung over the painting.

She spread her fingertips apart and pulled the holographic layers of the oil paint apart. They hung like a flourished deck of cards frozen in mid shuffle between a dealer's hands.

Raffi slid one layer upwards experimentally with a loose flick. Most of the painting remained still, but a small cluster of yellow-gold oil paint slid smoothly higher in parallel with her fingertip. She flicked it all the way out of the painting, so that it hung in its own expanse of space above her workstation.

“Computer capture colour profile for this layer.”

The firework sparks glowed briefly.

“Now replace that section of the pattern with...” she paused in thought, before keying in the specifications onto the console.

“...With _this_ star chart of the Delta Quadrant.” Raffi selected a file labeled _‘Voyager Star Chart 47 - Yontasa Expanse’._

What had been the spluttering embers of a spent Catherine wheel in the night sky of the painting morphed and split like cells dividing. The flecks of gold from the abstracted remains of the dying firework shifted into bright, pin-accurate star fields. Raffi flicked the layer back into the painting and admired her work.

 _It looks great,_ she thought, resting her hands on her hips in pride. _Though the size might be an issue..._

She removed the outlandish gold frame, before checking the size again. It was still just shorter than the length of her arm, and still _way too big_ for the canteen replicator.

“Computer, activate EEH.”

Ian flickered into view beside her, polishing a screwdriver.

“Ian, can I ask a favour?” Raffi said.

“Sure, las-” he cut himself short before he finished the pet name, wiped his neck with his cloth instead and corrected himself, _“-Raffi.”_

“This won’t fit out of the mess replicator,” Raffi said, gesturing to the holo-matrix of the painting “can you replicate it from the engineering one when I’m finished, please?”

“Ooooh, _star charts!”_ He whistled, impressed. “Enoch’ll love it!”

“Well, hopefully Seven does too,” Raffi said optimistically.

“Of course I’ll replicate it! And I can do the rest of the alterations too for you if y’like, Raffi? Looks like you’ve still got-” his eyes flashed blue as he checked, “Seventy four more layers of oil glazes to go. That’s _quite_ the undertaking, y’ken? That is if you’re intending on _manually manipulating_ the holo-matrix for _all seventy four_ of ‘em?”

“Thanks Ian,” Raffi said gratefully before turning back to her project as she pulled up the next layer of the holo-matrix. She drew up a list of Federation star charts and filtered them by author with a smile, “But I think I want to do this myself.”

* * *

It was later that week that Raffi finished and Ian replicated the painting. The brown packing paper crinkling under her nervous fingers as she knocked on the door to Seven’s quarters. 

“Come,” came a voice from inside.

The xB was seated at the tiny desk in the cramped room, the table was littered with PADDs. Seven smiled at the sight of Raffi before following her gaze to the desk, “I’ve been reading up on Hugh’s work,” the xB said, “ready for tomorrow.”

Raffi smiled as she spotted her patchwork blanket on the small sofa, the only spark of colour in the otherwise spartan room. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. Seven had simply been a captivating stranger, rather than- Raffi’s thought’s trailed off and she blushed, suddenly aware of Seven’s keen gaze.

“So I uh, made you this.” Raffi flustered. Kicking herself for sounding so obviously uncertain.

The OPS officer handed over the parcel with an apologetic smile, “I’m no artist but after what you told me in the cargo hold, I thought you should finally have that painting of a star chart for your wall.”

Seven raised a curious eyebrow and took the gift, peeling back the brown paper covering.

“It’s fine if you hate it,” Raffi stammered as the deep blues and bright gold peeked out from under the paper, “or it’s not your taste or-”

Seven tossed the paper onto the desk and held the painting before her in both hands, taking it in. The original she recognised from the gigaquads of _‘Classic Earth Culture’_ holo-imagery that The Doctor had assigned her as required reading back on Voyager, except this version was _different_ somehow. The fireworks above the dark landscape held an order and a precision that felt instinctively familiar.

With a jolt of realisation she recognised her own work in the flecks of copper and gold across the sky. Areas of her star charts pieced together across the canvas, blending in with the brushstrokes of the original. 

_It was beautiful._

One chart after another had been laid together, a path across the deep cobalt surface from the Delta Quadrant to Earth. It wasn’t _perfectly_ accurate, but it was close; there were tiny irregularities in the alignment where different charts had been pieced together like a puzzle. Tracing her journey like a map. 

_Had… had Raffi done this by hand?_

“Raffi, I-” Seven began, but couldn’t find the words. She turned back to the painting and let her eyes scan over the winding path through the oil paint glazes. Each system, star and spatial anomaly of her time on Voyager was nestled safely in the billowing midnight sky. Her gaze rested finally on the familiar curve of the Yontasa Expanse.

“That’s where Icheb offered me his cortical implant,” she said, tracing the outline with a gentle touch.

Raffi’s stomach froze, she knew that story now, “I can change it if it’s too painful?”

“No,” Seven smiled, “it’s...gratifying.” She considered the memory of the young man fondly. The aching pain that usually accompanied the thought of him was still there, but _softened._ She saw his unique touch in some of the sampled chart’s. The memory of him in Astrometrics felt warm inside her chest. A pride in him that she hadn’t felt worthy to indulge in in years.

“Is it ok?” The awkward, nervous shuffle of Raffi folding her arms pulled Seven from her thoughts.

“It’s _beautiful,”_ Seven looked at the soft relief across the other woman’s face, “thank you.” 

_How many years had she wanted this?_ Seven wondered. _A simple adornment and a place to hang it and to call home. And it was so personal, and thoughtful and-_

There was a moment of longing silence as Raffi looked like she was about to say something, she cleared her throat before speaking, “I should let you get some sleep, big day for you and Hugh tomorrow.”

Seven nodded, stiffly, still reeling from the gift.

“Night, Seven,” Raffi smiled softly, turning for the door.

“Goodnight.” Seven nodded.

The door hissed closed and Seven looked back down at the painting, turning it over to see if there was a cord from which to hang it. Her eyes caught instead against something in the bottom corner of the canvas. Angular handwriting tucked, shyly, by the edge of the wooden frame.

_For Seven,_

_A star chart for your quarters. Better late than never!_

_I know there’s things that you missed out on, and I don’t know if I can see them all with you._

_But I can try._

_I know you sometimes feel alone. And I don’t know if I deserve to be the one to be there for you._

_But I can try?_

_Your Raffi,_

_(If that’s what you want me to be)_

_X_

Seven traced a finger along the darting, angular gestures of Raffi’s handwriting. The penmanship was so idiosyncratic and so utterly _her_ that it took a moment before Seven lingered over the words _‘your Raffi’._ She read the message again before listening to the OPS officer’s feet becoming more distant outside her door. She propped the painting softly against the bed sheets and hurriedly pressed the door release, striding purposefully out onto the open upper deck of La Sirena.

Raffi was past the armoury, reaching for her own door console control, when the driven thud of Seven’s boots against deck drew her attention and she turned. The xB walked with a confidence and a slight smile Raffi didn’t recognise.

Seven stopped in front of the OPS officer looking for all the world like a newly minted cadet waiting for her pips. Back straight, hands clasped formally behind her back, chin high, underlining a resolute expression.

“In response to your note,” Seven stated, cocking her head, “I think you can. I believe you are. And _yes,_ that _is_ what I’d like.”

Raffi couldn’t look away from the determined expression in Seven’s steely blue eyes. It was overwhelming to feel like she was the only thing that existed in Seven’s sights at that moment. It sent the Rangers’ words rattling around Raffi’s mind, unwilling to be ordered.

“I’m sorry?” Raffi said before the feeling of Seven’s hand finding hers made her heart leap.

“The painting is beautiful, Raffi. But the note-” the xB took a step closer still and reached her augmented hand to gently cup the other woman’s cheek. Seven smiled as Raffi leaned into the gesture, the OPS officer raised her own hand to press Seven’s metal lined palm close against her skin.

Raffi felt her heart ache at the sight of Seven looking so open and so sure in front of her as the xB continued.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘deserve it’ but I do think you can make me happy. And _yes,_ assuming, of course, that the term of endearment isn’t mistaken for inappropriate possessiveness. I do enjoy the sound of the designation,” the Ranger paused and almost shyly tried out the sound on her tongue, as a cautious question, “my Raffi?”

“Oh, _absolutely,”_ the OPS officer’s face breaking into a bright smile.

Raffi’s heart quickened as Seven ran her hand around the soft curve of her neck, cradling the back of her head and closed the distance between their lips. Raffi sighed into it before wrapping her arms around the other woman’s waist and drawing her gently closer.

“I could be your Seven?” The xB murmured happily into Raffi’s kiss.

Raffi thought back to their discussion in the cargo hold and pulled back with a gentle furrow to her brow, “So long as you know you don’t _belong to_ anyone, honey?” she said as she tucked a strand of hair behind Seven’s ear, her heart aching with the trust held inside those words. "But maybe you could belong _with_ me?” 

She let her thumb trace across the edge of the xB’s starburst implant, smiling at the beauty of it, before easing Seven’s chin up into a gentle kiss.

The only thing confirming time hadn’t stood still was the steady progress of Coppelius across the window at the far end of the ship.

“I want to go at _your_ pace, Seven,” Raffi said resting her forehead against the Ranger’s, _“whatever_ that looks like.”

 _Who was the last person to say that?_ Seven wondered. _Had anyone ever said that?_

She considered her past relationships; Kathryn and her relentless push toward individuality at any cost. The still raw manipulation by Bjayzl even after all these years. The liaisons with other Rangers after, with whom circumstance had forced a harried pace.

With a pang of regret Seven realised, “I’m not certain I know what exactly ‘my pace’ looks like?” 

“Hmm, well _you’re_ the astrometrics expert here, babe,” Raffi smiled, pulling back a little, her hands comfortable at Seven’s waist, “your speciality is _charting the unknown.”_ She said dramatically with a grin, her lighthearted tone successfully returning Seven’s smile. 

Raffi caught the other woman’s eye with a smile that felt like a promise.

“Let’s find out together, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qowat Milat ceremonial wine is all made up though I’m assuming that the Rategain monks are from [Rateg.](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Rateg) Though maybe "New Rateg" since the original is _dust._ Lehe'jhme berries (I think) are one of the possible additives in Romulan Ale used to give it the blue colour though I think that's a bit of a mix of fanon and canon.
> 
> Obviously you can imagine Elnor’s wine lable how you like but I had the [Lindisfarne Gospels ](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d2/LindisfarneFol27rIncipitMatt.jpg) in the back of my mind. The tiny little beastie faces in the border kill me.
> 
> [Norcadia Prime](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Tsunkatse_\(episode\)) is the planet near where Seven is kidnapped and forced to participate in the blood sport Tsunkatse.
> 
> I'm sure you already know the ‘Cheesecake Incident' Raffi mentions is alluding to when Voyager’s EMH was temporarily in control of Seven’s body and indulges in a lot of things he really shouldn’t do, including eating too much - cheesecake in particular. Two things really stand out re-watching [that episode](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Body_and_Soul_\(episode\)) now: that a lot of the interaction between Seven and The Doctor (which was played for laughs in the late 1990’s/early 2000’s) is _deeply_ creepy, and that JR’s acting skills are [_unreal._](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQWbnx0iUQo)
> 
> The episode [Human Error](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Human_Error_\(episode\)) was 19 years ago and I’m _still_ not over it. There’s honestly no excuse for Seven still being treated like cargo by this point. [Here’s the clip](https://youtu.be/09CeQIg0fPU?t=449) of her discussing the painting of a star chart with Neelix. For context in this scene; her quarters, her science blue uniform, her lack of implants and even Neelix are all products of her holoprogram where she gave herself the experience of a ‘normal life’. Sadly (or not!) the clip ends before we see Seven summoned to her post - the program ends, everything fades and her implants are back. Thanks to _speedtrials_ for the many ‘Seven Deserved Better™️” conversations around this episode and others like it, which inspired this chapter.
> 
> The painting Raffi uses as the base of her star chart artwork is [“Nocturne in Black and Gold – The Falling Rocket”](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nocturne_in_Black_and_Gold_%E2%80%93_The_Falling_Rocket) an 1875 painting by Whistler. An absolutely beautiful painting, the libel lawsuit around which (Whistler was accused of just flinging paint around rather than doing a proper job) was the subject of his book _The Gentle Art of Making Enemies,_ a detail here which has nothing to do with the plot of this fic but is just an _excellent_ name for a book.
> 
> Rios’ half orange quip is a nod to _“Eres mi media naranja”_ or “you’re half my orange” in Spanish. Which is like saying someone is your better half, or soul mate depending on how serious you’re being, I think Rios is leaning on the former though he _is_ a big softy really. From [Happy Hour Spanish.](https://www.happyhourspanish.com/7-phrases-for-being-in-love-in-spanish/)
> 
> Spanish swear words from [this list:](https://www.wildjunket.com/top-10-spanish-swear-words/)  
>  _Hijo de puta_ / Son of a bitch!
> 
> The rest of the translation is from the ever dubious Google Translate. If you’re a native Spanish speaker and I’ve goofed - let me know and I’m happy to tweak :)  
>  _Producto de Chile, autorizado para la exportación de Sol-3._ / Product of Chile, cleared for export from Sol-3.  
>  _absolutamente_ / absolutely
> 
> Thanks for reading! New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	13. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah ha! Better late than never for this chapter!
> 
> Many thanks to Beta reader Lintila who valiantly battled through Sunday to wrangle what was one 9000+ word mega chapter into two. She deserves a medal for putting up with me saying _“It’s over 9000!”_ more times than can truly be considered reasonable.
> 
> Beta’s note: Yes, because it was the _word count_ that was the issue . . . .
> 
> Thanks also to Spinifex, the Beta’s-Beta, and owner of the fine tooth comb!
> 
> (CW: Minor character death although not seen directly, some blood mentions and very fleeting description of a panic attack. A heads up if you need one x)

“Korok!” Annika banged on the wooden door, “Korok?!”

There was no answer. Heart in her throat, she charged down the narrow stairway. Hastily brushing aside a hanging Bajoran guardian chime she rounded the corner of the stairs, the mournful sound clanked hollowly in her wake as she dashed into the restaurant below.

The fierce morning light blazed through the forest of upturned restaurant chairs.

“Computer, locate Korok,” Annika ordered the console behind the counter.

_ “Korok (Fenris Ranger ID-021: Tactical specialist, security level alpha) exited the premises at oh seven twenty three.” _

_ He was on the weapons supply run, _ Seven guessed.  _ With Marla,  _ _ with Bjayzl. _

Ani pulled out her communicator and froze part way through keying in Marla’s comms ID.

_ If Jay had access to Ranger’s comms then this might not be a clean line. _

_ Jay probably had access to...  _

_ Oh god, _ she thought.  _ The data scan. _

_ Jay would  _ _ know _ _. She would-, _ Annika’s mind spiralled wildly as the panic rose in her throat,  _ think,  _ _ think _ _. _

“Iden!” She shouted, and on command a disgruntled Bajoran holo fizzed erratically into life leaning sluggishly on the counter.

“Iden which port are they using for the weapons run?”

“Good morning to you too,” he said, irked at being activated before opening time.

“Marla and Korok,’ she repeated, “which port?”

“Týr Shuttle Port this time, I think.” Iden said curious at her tone. He picked up a cloth and gave the counter a wipe, which only served to move the dirt around. “They’re renting the heavy freighter again since the mag forecast looks pretty bad today, lots of Ionic activity.” 

Annika was only half listening, she checked her palm holo for the fastest route to Týr Shuttle Port.  _ It's close, she could maybe make it at a run. _

“Contact the other Rangers,” she said, “anyone in our cell, even the individuals who left, and  _ don’t _ use the normal frequency.”

Iden stopped wiping the counter at the urgency in the Ranger’s voice, “What?  _ Why? _ What’s happened?”

“Tell them Jay’s dangerous. That she is…  _ not _ who she says she is.”

“What are you talking about? We’ve known her a year now and-”

“Bjayzl is _Betazoid_ Iden, she's a criminal and she’s _extremely_ dangerous. We have been compromised.” She grimaced. _“I_ have been compromised. I was _stupid_ enough not to see it.” 

“And now Marla-” She looked back at the blinking route to the port on her palm holo, “I have to go. Contact the others.”

“Of course, Annika,” he said with a determined nod.

“That designation is... outdated.” she said coldly, grabbing the phaser rifle from among Korok’s parcels still scattered over the table. She frowned as she glanced at the expended fuel coil on the side before sliding open the chamber and inspecting the power pack. She deftly replaced it with a new one from the case and, satisfied, thumped it back closed with a dull click.The control assembly whirred keenly. 

“Sorry. Ani?” Iden said, eyes falling to the Ranger’s thumb as she slid the phaser rifle decisively off _ ‘stun’. _

Seven of Nine shouldered the weapon and yanked open the door to the street.

_ “‘Annika’,” _ she said glancing back, her blue eyes darkening to a steely, resolute grey.

“Is  _ not _ my fucking name.” She ground out, before setting off at a run.

* * *

La Sirena’s lights were fading to their day cycle blue as the crew ate breakfast in the mess hall.

Gentle conversation bubbled around Raffi as she rubbed her face and squinted again at the sensor readings on the PADD. She frowned and looked across the mess table to Cris.

“I’m telling you, these energy readings are  _ weird,”  _ she went to take a sip of her coffee and sighed at the empty cup, “I mean  _ really weird.” _

“Coppelius has a lot of electromagnetic activity anyway,” Soji said, finishing the last of her porridge, “maybe it’s just that?”

“Or the residual charge from the beacon perhaps?” Picard mused, warming his fingers on his morning tea.

“Well there’s some ionic storm activity, sure,” Cris shrugged, “but that’ll pass by no problem.”

Agnes shot him a concerned look from over by the replicator.

“Just  _ a little _ turbulence,” Rios dismissed the glare with a wave, “nothing to worry about.”

Raffi smiled as a warm palm touched her bare shoulder gently.

“Refill?” Seven asked, looking down with a slight smile and holding a hand out for Raffi’s cup.

“Oh god, yes.” Raffi said, passing Seven her empty cup. The xB took it with a nod and Raffi missed the feeling of the other woman’s hand at her shoulder almost immediately.

The xB joined Agnes in conversation by the replicator. Cris chuckled at his friend as he watched Raffi rest her chin on her hand and staring longingly over at Seven.

“Still fraternizing with the crew I see.” he teased.

Raffi turned and gave her friend a long, cold stare before pointedly letting her eyes drift over to Agnes. The cyberneticist was barefoot by the replicator, in sleep shorts and one of Rios’ old shirts. Raffi waited till Cris followed her gaze before turning back to her friend. She raised her eyebrows in smug silence, smirking.

“Yeah, fair point,” Cris laughed, “thank god we’re not in Starfleet.”

“Y’know, the replicators would  _ work _ in Starfleet.” Agnes chimed in, prodding the canteen console with annoyance, it delivered a lukewarm cup of something  _ almost, _ but not quite, entirely unlike tea. “First the one in your quarters, now this?”

“See!” Raffi said tossing the PADD onto the table, “I told you, freaky readings.”

Hugh looked up from his breakfast game of Kal-toh with Elnor, and caught Raffi's eye. “Ian mentioned that perhaps the interference from the ionic activity above the planet, could be what’s causing the malfunctions.”

Elnor looked attentive though a little lost.

“Ian said the big space portal ruined breakfast.” Agnes clarified for him, giving up on the replicator with a huff and turning to watch the game instead.

Elnor nodded sagely, picked up his t’an and considered his move.

The rest of the crew had drifted away to prepare for the day, leaving Raffi and Seven quietly reading in the mess with only Hugh Two keeping them company. The little cat snoozed contentedly on the bench next to the Ranger.

Seven had comfortably interlaced her fingers with Raffi’s across the table. The OPS officer was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on her reading instead of the feeling of the smooth, metal surface of Seven’s thumb as it stroked against the side of her own. 

Raffi dropped her eyes again to her PADD and tried to piece together why La Sirena’s multi spectral scans seemed so...off. It was as if there was something the scanners weren’t picking up, something that could be causing the little malfunctions around the ship. Her concentration was broken by Rios shouting from the upper level.

_ “Transport time!”  _

Seven sighed and pushed herself up from the bench. She clicked the PADD to standby and hoped she’d taken in enough about the Reclamation Project to assist Hugh on Coppelius. She drained the last of her coffee and placed the cup by the replicator, ready to be recycled when it was  _ actually _ functional again.

Raffi stood and leaned against the corner of the mess table, “What time are you back tonight?” She asked with a smile. She watched the Ranger walk back over, enjoying the  _ possibly _ deliberate sway of her hips.

“Eighteen hundred hours,” Seven replied, “which, I believe, you are already aware of?”

“Hmm, I was going for _ nonchalant.” _ Raffi said. She hopped up on the edge of the table, planted a foot on each bench, leant her elbows on her knees and grinned. “How am I doing at it?”

Seven looked as if she was seriously considering the question as she stepped closer. “Continue, and I’ll let you know.”

“Raffi?” Cris’ voice echoed into the mess from the deck above, “I’m assuming it’s  _ you _ delaying the Ranger? We’ve got a transport window here, y’know?”

Raffi nodded towards the upper deck, “Duty calls?”

“Something like that.” The Ranger said, she sidled between Raffi’s knees and let her hand rest lightly against the outside of the other woman’s thigh.

Raffi tried not to look too pleased and instead eased her fingers under the lapels of Seven’s jacket and gently tugged her closer, “Tonight. Dinner?”

“It’s a date,” Seven nodded, fingers beginning to draw lazy patterns on Raffi’s pant leg.

_ “Seven?”  _

The OPS officer ignored Rios and continued her train of thought, “I mean, that’s assuming, of course, the replicators are actually working properly by dinner.”

“There’s no guaranteeing  _ that,”  _ Seven scoffed.

The voice from above grew more annoyed, “That’s it _cabrón_ _ , _ I’m sending Elnor!”

“Fine!” Raffi threw her hands in the air.  _ “Coming!” _

“Hmm,” Seven mused as she raised her eyebrow,  _ “ _ I think  _ that  _ I  _ can _ guarantee,” 

“Dinner at nineteen hundred hours?” She said lightly kissing a still reeling Raffi, before she turned and headed upstairs to the transport PADD.

Raffi blinked, a slow, goofy smile spread across her face as the Ranger’s footsteps faded.

“You,” she turned to Hugh Two, “you heard that too, right?”

_ “Meow.” _

* * *

Korok breathed a sigh of relief as he unclipped the pilot seat safety restraint. He patted his straining belly and turned to his wife.

“I think I’m  _ still _ beating you,” he chuckled. He accepted the automated atmospheric exit route command from ground control with a lazy tap. He put his feet up on the control panel as the freighter continued it’s ascent. Korok idly watched the morning light glint off the bodies of passenger shuttles as they moved sleekly through the air.

Marla looked up from stowing her bag as her communicator trilled, she recognised Seven’s ID and flicked the device open with a chuckle. “Thought you were going to sleep forever there, Seven!” She laughed. The line hissed a little with electrical interference.

“Is she with you?” Seven’s voice sounded urgent.

“Who? Jay?” Marla pinched the communicator between her ear and her shoulder. “No she said she had to grab the Freecloud shuttle instead. Something about a business meeting.”

Marla raised her eyebrows at the sigh of relief from the xB.

“Marla I-” Seven began.

Korok caught his wife’s eye and tapped the atmospheric read out.

“Listen, I won’t be able to talk for long,” she said, looking over her husband's shoulder at the magnetic fluctuations, “the comms’ll drop out when we cut through the ion field.”

“Marla, I don’t know if she has access to this channel, I tried to reach you before take off but-”

“Who,  _ Jay?”  _

“Yes, Jay,” Seven continued, “Marla, you were right about her.”

“I knew it!” The Bajoran hissed, before the realisation sunk in “Oh shit, Seven are you ok? What did she do?”

“Sorry to interrupt you ladies,” Korok said over his shoulder, “but I’m getting some irregular readings here.”

He peered at the automatic ascent path, the preprogrammed trajectory cut a red line across the holo control, seemingly  _ into _ the building ion storm.

“Some  _ qovpatlh _ at ground control gave us a  _ real _ rough route out here.” he gestured to the screen incredulously with a heavy gloved hand.

“What did he say, Marla?” Seven’s voice came through thin over the line.

“Route’s screwy.” Marla replied, leaning over her husband and trying to correct. The console buzzed in protest.

Korok slid the freighter’s comms link open, “Ground control, this is  _ Antares-9, _ requesting a reroute.”

There was no reply. He knocked the comms panel with a fist,  _ “Ground control,  _ come in, _ ”  _ Korok tried again, tension rising in his voice as the freighter began to rattle in the turbulence, “Ground control this is the freighter  _ Antares-9,  _ requesting an  _ urgent _ reroute. Respond.  _ Respond!” _

Korok slammed the console with his palm. There was no answer. Not even static. The line was dead.

“Marla, tell me what’s going on. I can-” Seven’s voice echoed in the Bajoran’s ear, crackling as the line deteriorated.

“Ship’s comms are down. Hang on, my communicator is still running.” Marla looked over at her husband with dawning horror on her face. “Do you think she-”

Korok tried to engage the manual control. It buzzed flatly in refusal. 

“The  _ hu'tegh _ systems are compromised.” He snarled. There was a groan as electromagnetic energy whipped at the side of the aging craft. 

The Klingon Ranger’s eyes tracked across the route map and back to his wife. 

“Change of plan,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her, stumbling toward the escape pods as the ship shook violently. Korok steadied Marla as the Bajoran’s eyes widened at the incoming wave of crackling energy on the view screen.

_ “Prophets,  _ Seven I-“

Seven’s hand flew up to her face as a blinding white light lit up the sky above the city, she staggered as the thunderous boom hit her squarely in the chest. Glass glittered around her from the windows of the space port blew out in the shockwave.

_ “Marla!” _ She shouted helplessly as the distant fireball blossomed into slow arcing plumes of falling wreckage.

Her hand holding the communicator fell limply to her side. Numb shock echoed in her chest as somewhere in the distance a siren began to wail.

_ Marla. Korok- _

_ She needed to make sure the other Rangers were safe.  _

_ Needed to find out who else Jay had got to. _

_ Bjayzl had access to everything. _

_ Everything _ _. _

_ All their comms traffic. _

_ All their plans. _

_ All their allies. _

A cold stone of realisation dropped through the water of her thoughts as everything ground to a slow, screaming stop. 

_ Icheb. _

When was the last time she had heard from him? The sinking feeling deepened. Crystallising into an icy dread that seemed to swallow everything.

_ Had it been a week? Longer? _

_ Oh god, _ she panicked, as she scrambled for her communicator. 

She hoped she wasn’t too late.

* * *

The sun was dipping below the Coppelian horizon as Hugh brushed dust off the boulder and took a seat. He looked down over Synthville and smiled. Below he could pick out a handful of xB’s and Synths walking together in companionable conversation, the sunset stretching their warm shadows behind them as they walked.

He reached into his bag, took out the little, blue cloth parcel Elnor had given him and rested it in his lap.

“Care for some company?” Seven asked from the path behind him, her boots grinding softly against the dry, dirt trail.

“Be my guest.” Hugh shuffled along, wiping more of the rock clean with his hand. The Director frowned at the worryingly distant feeling of the dust against his skin. The sensation felt muted, numb. As Seven took a seat he leant down to pick up a piece of red shale. He squeezed it in his palm until he heard a clean snap. Opened his hand to reveal the little sedimentary rock broken along a fault line and two pale dents against his artificial skin when the stone had pushed. He hadn’t felt it.

“What did that one do to you?” Seven joked flatly, nodding at the remnants of the rock Hugh was crumbling against his fingers as she settled herself next to him.

“Time for replacement skin on this hand I think.” He said with a sigh, cleaning his palm on his pant leg. “I could do without the hassle, honestly.”

Seven watched Hugh untie the cloth parcel in his lap. Her optical implant noted the temperature difference between his hands as they worked to loosen the cord holding the coarse cloth together. She supposed his right hand was all artificial, though it looked ‘real’ enough. She rubbed her own hands together, wondering how many times she’d taken having her own limbs for granted, augmented as they were. 

Hugh pocketed the cord and opened up the blue cloth over the rock between them. Inside was a stainless steel canteen and a small stack of flatbreads, dark charred bubbles standing out against the smooth surface of the bread. 

“Elnor replicated the ingredients when the mess hall unit looked like it was going to fail this morning.” Hugh’s expression was as soft as the evening light touching the remains of his implants. “He made the bread on Ian’s hotplate, said he didn’t want me missing out on supper.”

“Very thoughtful,” Seven nodded. She could imagine the Romulan chatting to the EEH and baking bread.

Hugh plucked a paper note tucked in between the roti and the canteen. He read it and Seven watched the man’s eyebrows arch together with a sweetly happy expression, suddenly looking younger than his years. Seven made an effort to ignore the feedback on the other xB’s vitals from her optical implant, it felt intrusive. Although Hugh’s feelings for the younger man were probably obvious to see in his expression, even  _ without _ noting how his pupil dilated while reading Elnor’s words.

_ Even his cybernetic eye responded, _ Seven thought. She shook her head and decided she was getting overly sentimental.

Hugh passed the note to Seven, her eyes scanned over the old fashioned looking cursive Romulan.

_ “To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work. But if it is attention paid to you? Then that, I find, is less like work and more like joy.” _

“What do I even  _ do _ with that, Seven?” Hugh chuckled in disbelief and rubbed his brow.

“Frame it, perhaps?” Seven said dryly with a raised eyebrow. “Do you keep a scrapbook?”

Hugh laughed. “Do the rest of the crew get your sense of humour, or no?”

“Jury’s out,” Seven’s expression relaxed into a smile, “and the note  _ is _ beautiful, Hugh.” She passed it carefully back. The xB tucked it safely under the bottom roti.

Hugh took the lid off the canteen, the contents were still warm. The smell was heavily spiced and inviting. Hugh tore off some bread ready to scoop up some of the curry and gestured to Seven to help herself.

“I do sometimes wonder what he sees in me.” He said, putting his bread back down with a sigh.

Seven raised her eyebrows in playful scorn, “I hadn’t taken you for someone who would put emotion over evidence, Hugh.”

“I don’t.” Hugh frowned, a little put out.

“Then simply accept that Elnor sees you for what you are,” Seven pulled apart some bread, “which is that you are a good man,” she took some curry before adding, “and more importantly a  _ kind _ one. And the Quadrant is in very short supply of both.”

“I’m not-”

“No one bakes bread and writes love notes for just anyone, Hugh.” 

As Hugh was about to protest, a voice cut into their conversation through the Ranger’s combadge.

“Seven?” Rios said, his voice thin and crackling, “Sorry, it seems like that ion storm’s knocked our transporters out,” Rios grumbled, “looks like you guys are stuck down there till tomorrow.” 

Seven looked to Hugh who shrugged.

“Might struggle with the comms too. Are you guys going to be ok for somewhere to stay?” His voice distorting intermittently.

Hugh cleared his throat, ““Doctor Soong and the others have provided comfortable accommodations for the xB’s,” he said. “I'm sure they could stretch to a few more rooms. Picard’s already taking a nap in one.”

Rios laughed over the garbled comms, “That’s ok then, if anything changes we’ll let you know.”

“Hey, Seven,” Raffi’s voice sounded more distant, perhaps from OPS. Seven enjoyed the sound of the smile in the other woman's voice, “you going to need a rain check on dinner, babe, or shall I-” the line cut into static for a second until the Captain’s voice broke back through.

“Absolutely not,” Cris interjected, “no flirting on the comms!”

Hugh leaned closer to Seven so the combadge would pick up his voice clearer, “Doctor Soong said the electromagnetic activity is going to be strong this evening but that the wave will pass by you.”

“That’s what I like to he-” the line glitched and the xB’s waited for the signal to stabilize. “Call us when the storm lifts, we’ll be waiti-” The line hissed a final time and dropped.

“At least we have time to enjoy the roti.” Hugh said.

The xB’s turned at the syncopated crunch of hurried footsteps on the path behind them.

“Was that La Sirena?” The Synth said as she approached a sheen of sweat clinging to her gold skin. “Have they detected the storm front?”

“Yes,” Hugh nodded, “they’re holding position till they can get a transporter lock.”

Worry flashed across Arcana’s yellow eyes, “Hail them again. Now. We tried from down in the facility, but got no response.”

“Why?” Seven asked, already tapping her communicator. There was no response. “I thought electrical activity was typical for Coppelius?”

“The ion readings aren't the danger,” the Synth said, activating a palm-holo and handing it to the xB, “the danger is this.”

Seven looked at the holographic projection of Coppelius suspended above her hand. Its two moons suspended beside it and a tiny speck of orange light pulsing in orbit.

The synth ran her hand through the holo, disrupting the image like suddenly troubled waters, “Your earlier transport in dragged the residual neutronic energy from the portal up into the ionosphere.”

Hugh’s eyes widened as he watched a line of particles rise from the planet and merge with the holographic storm front like fuel on a fire.

Arcana drew her hand back, the projection of the electromagnetic storm surged toward the little ship. 

“Looks like the energy has been drifting up on its own anyway, but the teleport dredged up the silt again, so to speak.”

The calm evening light filtering through the holo in Seven’s palm was at odds with the fear that began to claw in Hugh’s stomach.

“It’s amplifying the storm?” the Director murmured. 

The Synth nodded, “Category five, and rising.”

“Five?!” Hugh gasped. “But it’s only a freighter!” He tapped his combadge. “Hugh to La Sirena.”

There was no response.

He tried again, “La Sirena respond!” 

Hugh and Seven’s eyes met. 

“We will assist.” Seven said, standing up and offering an arm to Hugh.

“We already have our best researc-”

“I refuse to sit and watch while our friends are in danger,” Seven interrupted. “Hugh and myself have insight into La Sirena’s systems, you do not.”

Arcana nodded, “In that case follow me.”

The xB’s set off on a run, Hugh briefly stumbling back to grab Elnor’s note, holding it tight in his palm as he caught up with the others.

Seven glanced up. Somewhere, beyond the calm horizon, neutronic energy was clawing its way into the ionosphere towards the tiny freighter above them.

Seven didn’t need a neural connection with Hugh to know he was feeling the same slew of emotions she was. 

The hope that the crew of La Sirena would notice in time. 

The fear that they wouldn’t.

Seven’s stomach tightened at the thought of the crew,  _ of Raffi, _ in the path of that rapidly approaching danger.

She tried not to think of what had happened the last time she’d felt this way.

  
  


* * *

Cris leaned heavily over the edge of the railing by the stairs and adjusted the grip of the playing card nipped between his fingers. He squinted down at the open med kit on the table next to Agnes and tried to aim.

“Twenty eighth time lucky isn’t a thing,” the cyberneticist said, reclined on the metal bench, one hand behind her head the other holding her book, “you do know that right?”

“Thanks for the support,  _ amiga,”  _ Rios said, flicking the playing card down into the mess. It flew wide, arcing to the left and landing with a tap on the table. Raffi slid it off the tabletop and added it to her growing collection. There were still no cards in the med case.

“Twenty ninth time’s the charm?” Raffi teased.

“I thought you said the charm was in the  _ third time?” _ Elnor asked, looking up from petting a purring Hugh Two in his lap.

“That’s just-” Soji started, before deciding that trying to explain another Terran saying to Elnor might result in her having to embark on an in-depth conversation about charm, luck and other superstitions. Given that the last time this happened she had ended up debating whether Hugh Two was, in fact, half lucky or half unlucky as a half black cat, she decided instead to finish playing Kal-toh in peace.

There was a flicker as the holo-cat’s purr glitched into jarring digital static. The black and ginger cat seemed to spook himself with his own sound. The little holo clawed up onto the table and shivered as if trying to shake something off. Ears pricked and with a leap he jumped onto Agnes’ lap and tried to mew in alarm. The cute noise glitched again, this time falling alarmingly through deeper octaves, like a wind up toy running out of power. He flickered once. Twice. Then vanished.

“That’s odd,” Agnes mused, propping herself up on an elbow, “the holo-emitters must be on the blink.”

“Ha!” Cris laughed from above, “Well, if we’re lucky they’ll all go off and I’ll finally get some peace!”

The Captain’s console trilled urgently. Rios turned and leant nonchalantly against the chair, glancing down at the flashing data. He frowned at the rapidly rising ionic reading, the cold grip of understanding tightening around his stomach.

In the adrenaline stretched second it took for him to process the wave of danger barreling toward the ship both the tactical and OPS stations were already lighting up with frantic readouts.

“Fuck!” he hissed, throwing himself into the conn, “ _ RED ALERT!” _

La Sirena’s emergency lighting plunged the bridge into deep red light.

“What the hell?!” Raffi yelled, charging up the stairs from the mess two at a time, arms straining as she hauled herself up with both railings.

“That wave they  _ said _ was going to miss us?” Rios said half over his shoulder, eyes still fixed on the roiling darkness outside the ship, “Is headed  _ straight _ for us!”

“What’ll that do?” Agnes shouted from the mess as Soji darted to the bridge.

“Nothing good!” Cris yelled, throwing the pilot’s holo-interface up around his face, “Computer, activate ETH!” 

There was an impotent shimmer of static at tactical as the holo failed to materialise.

_ “Mierda,”  _ Cris hissed, there was too much data tumbling through his readout,  _ there was too much- _

“Cris, how long till-” Raffi was cut off by a sudden jolt that nearly knocked her off her feet as the ship lurched to port. She turned to stop Soji from falling backwards down the stairs, pulling her up the final few steps as a sickening, twisted scream of rending duratanium cut across the deck from somewhere deep in the ship. Raffi’s stomach churned, the feeling of the artificial gravity tugging at her boots was at odds with the sight of the planet below, La Sirena tumbling from the shockwaves’ impact made it appear to be spiralling across the window.

Rios gritted his teeth, right hand working to try and steady the ship.

He yanked the holo control to starboard. Nothing.

He swore under his breath and tried again.  _ Still nothing. _

“That shockwave knocked out the thrusters.” Rios said, checking the status of the propulsion systems on his console.

“So it’s over?” Elnor asked, arriving at the bridge, “The danger’s passed?”

“That was the shockwave  _ in front _ of the ion surge,” Raffi said over her shoulder as she slid into her seat at OPS.

“Well, go to warp!” Soji said, as she pulled herself to her feet at the top of the stairs.

“Not with this much negative charge around the deuterium injectors,” Raffi said, eyes scanning over the sensor readings, “not unless you’re  _ real keen _ on making people-jam.”

Cris wasn’t listening, one hand was trying to steady the unresponsive controls, the other frantically sorting through the avalanche of data readouts as he tried to assess the situation.

“No, no,  _ no!”  _ he slammed the control “Propulsion’s  _ gone! _ The impulse manifold isn’t responding, I need...Computer, activate EEH!”

A shower of sparks lit up the port console in response, Raffi ducked.

“I need those  _ maldito holos!”  _ Rios yelled.

“You need a crew, Cris.” Raffi said as she transferred data from Rios’ console to her own, lightening the load, “You’ve got one. Now, what else do you need?”

Rios’ eyes widened at the readout of the ionic storm front surging toward the little ship.

“Working thrusters,” his hands dragged through data, horrified as the electromagnetic energy began stripping away power to the deflector, “or  _ shields, _ ” he frantically ran a hand through his hair, “or a miracle.”

“Well you’ve got me,” Raffi grimaced as the ship shook, “that’ll just have to do.”

Raffi spun the OPS chair back to face the flashing console and with an arching motion of her wrist she flared out the data around her. Determinedly trying to separate the information into some kind of order.

“Looks like we need to face that wavefront as it hits, hull plating’s strongest there” Raffi said, “but how do you turn a ship with no engines?”

“Great time for riddles, Raf,” Rios scoffed before an idea hit him, “landing thrusters! It’s not much but it might move us enough!”

“You fly us through this, Cris,” she turned round to face her friend, “we’ve got the rest.”

The two locked eyes and shared a nod of absolute trust. “You got it.” Rios grinned.

“Soji, I need you on tactical.” Raffi said with cold authority.

“But I-” Soji began.

_ “Now,” _ Raffi ordered, “I need to know where the problem is in the impulse manifold.”

The Synth swallowed and took a seat, “Er, so,” her head cocking to the side briefly as her eyes scanned quickly through the data, “it looks as if there’s no power getting through the starboard manifold?” Soji said uncertainly, “some kind of blockage, but I don’t know what.”

“Elnor,” Raffi caught the Romulan’s eye, “go pull out the engineering access port and see if you can see anything obviously wrong.” Elnor was already running to the rear of the ship as Raffi spoke.

“Agnes!” the Captain shouted, “we need those holos operational!”

“Agnes?” Cris darted a look over his shoulder, still desperately trying to rig his work around the missing impulse engine,  _ “Agnes?  _ You ok? I need my engineer, pronto!”

“I’m ok, I’m ok!” She lied, her shaking hands curling into determined fists, she headed for the medbay console, “Holos. Back online. Got it.”

She steadied herself against the mess table as she ran, discarded playing cards sliding across the galley floor.

_ “A little turbulence, _ he said.” Agnes muttered under her breath, trying to ignore the sound of clattering medical tools rattling themselves off the shelves as the ship juddered violently.

_ “Nothing to worry about, _ he said.” She flinched as a burst of sparks flared from a shattering light above her head.

Rios’ voice rose about the clamour, “I need that EEH! If that wave hits the side of the ship we’re toast!”

_ "Not helping!” _ Agnes yelled back to the bridge.

She hastily activated the medbay computer console and pulled up La Sirena’s holo matrix. Agnes groaned as what should have been a steady stream of orderly subroutines was now a writhing, flashing morass of raw data. The Emergency Holos code pulled and twisted out of shape as the storm roiled around them. She tried to separate out the subroutines into individuals but moving one strand of data seemed to tug at the rest.

“We  _ need _ those holos, Agnes,” Raffi hollered, “sooner rather than later!”

“I’m trying!” She shouted back, wincing as a bank of hyposprays clattered to the floor next to her “But the matrix is-” she trained off, her concentration narrowing to the code in front of her. 

_ The holos are in there somewhere,  _ she thought.

_ There was hope _

_ There  _ _ had _ _ to be. _

* * *

Bjayzl closed the ‘Tyr Port ground control’ interface on her communicator and slung her bag on the floor by the shuttle window. The business class seat to Freecloud wasn’t exactly up to her standard, but the rest of this section of the shuttle was thankfully empty. Taking her seat she flicked open her communicator, selected a contact and listened to the connecting tone. She scrolled idly through the list of  _ ‘Top Ten Freecloud Experiences’ _ in the shuttle holo-supplement projected above the small table beside her. There was a series of clicks as the call connected through her  _ personal _ comms filters, Jay turned on the charm.

“Bruce,  _ darling, _ long time no speak! How’s the project?” She said, voice dripping with feigned excitement. 

“Ha! Is that  _ so?” _ Jay listened and made encouraging noises as the man spoke.

_ Scientists,  _ she sighed inwardly in exasperation as he began waxing lyrical about his work in extravagant detail.  _ She was going to need a drink if he was going to keep talking about beauty mark placement.  _ She browsed through the shuttle’s holo projection of the drinks menu, smiled briefly at the neat bourbon before selecting a Samarian sunset.

She raised her eyebrows at Bruce’s description. “Well you never  _ could _ resist a pretty face, making them actually sounds easier.” She smiled at the young looking hospitality hologram in a smart  _ ‘Qiris Interplanetary’ _ uniform. The holo watched the order come up on her folio and smiled at Jay with a neat nod.

“Hmm, yes about that.  _ So _ sorry for the delay, can’t be helped I’m afraid.” She cocked her head to the side and watched the hospitality holo walk away, smiling approvingly.

“I understand that, but who  _ doesn’t _ think their work’s important? You’ll just have to sit tight. The Brunali shipment got held up in transit.” She kicked off her heels and closed her eyes as she listened to the cyberneticist whinge.

“Customs issues, Bruce, my ship can’t get back into the Qiris system and I’m not pushing my luck.” She opened her eyes at the gentle sound of a glass placed down next to her. She took the glowing cocktail and sighed as the attractive holo dematerialised for take off. Her lingering appreciation of the flight attendant was cut short by Bruce’s abject stupidity.

_ “Absolutely not. _ Teleporting would leave a molecular fingerprint. You know me Bruce, I’m not that sloppy.”

There was a rumble and then an artificial stillness as the shuttle’s inertial dampeners activated. 

“Quite. The cargo can just sweat it in the hold till the random customs sweeps die down.” She dragged her bag into place with a pointed toe and used it as a foot-rest.

“Oh it’s fine- the parts keep  _ indefinitely, _ so long as they’re in wet storage.” Jay sipped her drink and watched the ground fall away outside of the window.

“Well that’s the convenient thing about xBs; food and water are very much  _ optional. _ His nanoprobes will keep him going for a long while, don’t worry.” She replaced the drink, reached down to the side pocket of her bag and took out her palm holo, activating it with a click.

“Yes, your order still stands, we simply need to harvest the parts first.” She drew up the private invoice of components next to a Starfleet graduation photo of a shyly smiling Brunali officer. The entire list of parts flashed  _ ‘pending’  _ frustratingly.

“Well, your excitement is understandable, of course. Those components are rare,  _ almost _ unique.” She pinched out to a menu and scrolled idly, looking for another file.

“Mmhmm,” Jay mumbled as she found the one she was looking for. She didn't bother looking up as a bright white fireball silently lit up the sky outside the starboard shuttle window.

With a gentle hum the duratanium window shields slid down before a small blast wave hit the craft. Bjayzl reached out a hand to steady her drink as the Captain's voice came over the intercom.

_ “This is your Captain speaking. We’d like to apologise for the unexpected turbulence. Fenris orbital control has reported an incident in the ionosphere but our ascent this morning should not be affected. Flight crew will be moving through the craft shortly to take your dining selection, starting with our highly valued Latinum Class patrons. Thank you and have a pleasant flight.” _

Jay waited patiently for Maddox to stop blathering about  _ ‘heritage headwear.’  _

“Speaking of which, I’ve got a  _ thrilling _ little surprise for you-”

She grimaced at his reply. 

“You’re disgusting Bruce, no. Do I look like one of your little research assistant fuck buddies?”

The sip of her cocktail didn’t  _ quite _ wash away the thought.

“Those Delta Quadrant parts you originally requested?”

Jay turned back to the frozen, familiar stoic smile looking back at her from her palm holo.

“Yes,  _ her.” _

She traced the outline of the xB’s blonde hair across the viewscreen.

“You’ll be happy to know that, due to a change of circumstances, she’s now  _ back _ on the market,”

Jay slid a holo command node under the xB’s image from  _ ‘exempt’ _ to  _ ‘active order’.  _ The image flashed red, and with a flick of her finger Jay sent the updated instructions to her harvesters. She deactivated the palm holo with a click and eased back in her chair. Maddox’s excited chatter rattled from the communicator pressed against her ear. Jay smiled politely as the pretty hospitality holo returned to take her order.

“That’s  _ correct _ Bruce, and I’d be  _ delighted _ to do business.”

* * *

Rios wiped at the blood streaming down his face, thankful the falling section of plating hadn’t knocked him out. His shirt was wet and sticking to his chest as the blood seeped into the fabric. He glared in dizzy concentration at the helm control. Deftly using the landing thrusters to try and keep La Sirena’s better shielded hull pointing into the threatening storm front. It wasn’t working very well. He turned to yell over his shoulder down to sickbay.

“Status report!”

“Yelling ‘status report’ will  _ not _ make me go faster!” Agnes called back, “I’m nearly there, just gimme a minute!”

“I  _ would _ if I had a-” Rios startled as Hugh Two rubbed his chin fondly against the toe of his boot.

”Perfect, we’re nearly dead in the  _ maldito _ water but, hey, at least the cat’s back,” he scoffed before a sudden jolt of realisation shot through him. Both he and Raffi gasped in unison,

_ “THE CAT’S BACK!” _

“Did it work?” Agnes called up from sickbay.

“Let's find out!” Rios grinned, “Computer, activate  _ all _ emergency holos!”

“D’you mind if I cut in?” a warm Irish voice lilted over Raffi's shoulders the ENH materialised on the bridge along with the rest of La Sirena’s complement of holograms.

_ “¿Necesito una mano, señora?” _ Emmet said cracking his knuckles and stepping into the seat as Soji gratefully gave way.

“If we’re done with the niceties?” Rios laughed, feeling hope rising in his chest as he barked out orders.

“Enoch, find the thinnest point in that wave. Ian, I need that impulse engine operational!”

“Raffi,” Cris reached into his pocket and tossed the field replicator to his friend, “take the field replicator, help Ian.”

“Got it.” Raffi snatched the tool out of the air and made a run for engineering as the holo rematerialised there.

“Emmet, reroute all auxiliary power to the forward phaser banks, as soon as we have thrusters we are punching our way through.”

The ETH nodded and set to work.

“Agnes, you did it!” Rios shouted. The silence from the cyberneticist was deafening in the Captain’s ears.

“Agnes?” 

The Captain brushed the EMH’s dermal regenerator out of his face.

“Get off me!” Rios growled, “go find Agnes!”

Emil continued running the dermal regenerator over the Captain’s skin, “She’s experiencing acute but  _ temporary _ psychological distress,” he said, his English accent calm amid the chaos,  _ “you _ are going to pass out in the Captain's chair if you don’t  _ hold still.” _

Rios tried to find the strength to argue, but a wave of concussion induced dizziness swept over him and he blinked hard trying to stop the bridge from spinning. 

“Where's that hospitality holo?” His words came out in a cough as the smoke winding across the bridge caught his lungs.

The hospitality hologram flickered out of existence from the other side of the ship where he had been helping Soji and Elnor attend to the micro-fractures.

“Captai-“ he was cut short by Cris’ hand yanking his turtle neck collar and dragging the holo’s face close to his own.

“Keep. Agnes. Safe.” He growled, “That is  _ it, _ that’s your  _ only  _ job _. _ Ok?”

“But Captain, I-” the EHH began.

Rios winced in pain as Emil pressed a hypo spray against his neck. “Steward,  _ please.” _

The EHH nodded.

The Captain has never called him that before.  _ He must be desperate,  _ he thought fleetingly before his eyes flashed blue as he searched La Sirena for the cyberneticist.

Steward disappeared, the silhouetted space where he had been slowly filling with wispy smoke as he vanished.

He reappeared in sickbay, next to the shaking figure of the Doctor who had tucked herself behind the bio bed. Hands over her ears. With the distraction of reactivating the holos gone, nothing remained to take her frantic mind off the chaotic clamour of the ship around her.

“Come here, Agnes,” he said softly, kneeling down next to her. His voice, a life line across the sea of noise. 

“Cris?” she said, scrambling closer to the holo as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Close enough,” Steward drawled, wrapping a steadying arm around the little Doctor’s shoulders, “just try and breathe with me now, ok Agnes?”

  
  


At the rear of the ship Ian had identified the problem, the impulse manifold was badly jammed. He was doing his best to talk the OPS officer through the repair, the field replicator having failed to respond to the EEH’s subroutines in place of synapses.

“Raffi?!” Cris bellowed from the bridge.

Ian kneeled closer, “I dinnae ken if you’re going for added drama here lassie, but I think at this point it’s now or never!”

“Come on, come on,” Raffi whispered. Her mind reached out into the unfathomable complexity of the impulse engine as she desperately willed the thrusters to ignite.

“Work, just  _ work, _ please,” she muttered frantically under her breath, having a hard time ‘imagining the fix’ as the deck shuddered under her feet.

_ “Any time now, _ Raf!” Rios yelled.

Raffi crouched lower on the cold deck, her shoulders bowed against a jet of plasma billowing above her. She squeezed her eyes tighter closed and felt the ghost of her First Officer’s training steady her nerves. 

She adjusted her grip on the field replicator and quieted her thoughts. The sprawling inside of the impulse engine unfolded in her mind. The interconnected systems stretched into a glowing network before her. She could see the flow of energy moving from the warp engine to the propulsion systems. 

Saw the flashes of arcing energy as La Sirena struggled to power the stalling impulse engine.

Saw the blockage.

Saw where the manifold was buckled in on itself. 

She breathed out, concentrated and  _ imagined the fix. _ She watched in her mind as the crumpled metal of the impulse manifold whipped back, taut, like a ship's sail finally catching the wind.

“GOT IT!” Raffi yelled triumphantly, her eyes snapping open as the Captain shouted over her.

_ “BRACE FOR IMPACT!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter began life as a monster which I was convinced to half, so sorry about the cliffhanger, it was something of an accidental one!
> 
> Týr Shuttle Port names for the [Norse God Týr](https://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/the-aesir-gods-and-goddesses/tyr/#:~:text=Tyr%20\(pronounced%20like%20the%20English,matters%20of%20law%20and%20justice.) who has his hand bitten off by Fenrir/ The Fenris Wolf.
> 
> Marla and Korok rent an [Antares Class freighter](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Antares_class_\(Federation\)) for their ill fated weapons run. The same class of ship owned by Kasidy Yates!
> 
> Elnor’s note was Hugh had a modified version of this Mary Oliver line from [“Yes! No!”](http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/mary_oliver/poems/15818)  
>  _“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.”_
> 
> The other line from that poem that hits me with the Elnor feels is:  
>  _“How important it is to walk along, not in haste but slowly, / looking at everything and calling out / Yes! No!...”_
> 
> Klingon swearing from [here.](https://en.wikibooks.org/wiki/Klingon/English_dictionary_of_Klingon_words)  
> Qovpatlh / Epithet; possibly indicates insignificance of target. Don't bother asking that Qovpatlh; he is an idiot.  
> Hu'tegh / damn
> 
> Translation is from the ever dubious Google Translate. If you’re a native Spanish speaker and I’ve goofed - let me know and I’m happy to tweak :)  
> Amiga / friend (female)  
> Maldito / damned  
> Mierda / shit  
> ¿Necesita una mano, señorita? / Need a hand, miss?
> 
> Thanks for reading! New chapters posted (hopefully _on time_ next time) on Sundays <3


	14. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Beta reader Lintila who only _very_ briefly considered murder when I arrived for ‘editing evening’ with 11,000 words and a sheepish look.
> 
> Many thanks also to Annamelia, this week's guardian of the fine toothed comb and XO grammar wrangler.
> 
> Should this chapter be shorter? Probably, yes. Could this chapter have been shorter? Probably, yes. Did I make this chapter shorter? ...Nope XD We’re getting _real_ close to the end of the story now. Grab a cup of tea and settle in - it’s a rather long one this week!
> 
> (CW: Some fairly visceral blood and organ mentions (courtesy of Vup), a very brief/veiled threat of sexual violence, and some references to Raffi’s fraught relationship with her family. A heads up if you need one x)

La Sirena’s impulse engines roared to life. The sudden energy surge blew the deck lights, darkness cascading like dominoes as it thundered toward the bridge. Sparks and billowing plasma exhaust arced across the conn, framing the unflinching silhouette of the Captain against the writhing purple storm front ahead.

“Trajectory locked,” Enoch nodded, orange holographic crosshairs picking out their route to safety.

 _“Phasers al máximo!”_ Emmet confirmed as his tattooed hands hovered over the controls.

“On my mark,” Cris said with a feigned confidence that sounded _almost_ real.

The moment felt like a lifetime as Rios’ blood pounded in his ears, one hand on the helm, the other gripping the arm of the Captain’s chair. The skin of his knuckles pulled taut and white against the bone, anchoring him to his post as he waited for his chance.

The command taut on his tongue.

The deafening clamour around him faded away, he licked his lips, the taste of bitter recycled ozone clung to the air. The hair on his arms stood on end as the rising static tugged at his skin. In that moment of stillness his eyes slid closed, he waited for the edge of the swell to make contact with the hull.

The faintest twitch of the holo control against his palm was all the signal he needed.

 _“NOW!”_ He yelled.

Enoch and Emmet executed their command with synchronised precision in the instant before the Captain slammed his palm forwards.

Raffi screwed her eyes closed against the blinding light of the phasers cutting through the wall of energy. The sudden jolt of the ship breaking into the ion front sent her careening forwards, her head thumping off the open engineering console. She clutched her forehead and felt Ian’s arm wrap around her, holding her steady as the ship shook. The sound of cups smashing in the mess hall added to the ear piercing screech as cargo and furniture began to slide across the deck. Raffi’s stomach churned as the artificial gravity fluctuated under the energy strain. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Elnor and Soji clinging on to each other as the fluctuating gravity dashed them against the floor.

“Cris!” Raffi yelled above the noise. “How much longer?!”

“Nearly there!” Rios called back over his shoulder. “Hold on!”

Impulse engines churned the ionic cloud into a crackling electrical wake as the battered red hull of La Sirena broke the surface of the wave. Duraglass glinted in the sudden clear starlight as discharging lightning arched in its trail, like sunlit water behind a leaping fish.

The ship came to a bouncing, rolling stop as La Sirena settled safely, buoyed on the gentle, electromagnetic eddies above the ion storm.

Rios let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and let his head fall back against the headrest in relief.

* * *

Icheb groaned, his eyes screwed shut, the stabbing, grinding pain in his side pointed to at least two broken ribs. He shakily breathed the stale air and tried to sit up. His limbs felt heavy and uncooperative and his head throbbed. He peeled open his eyes and peered at his surroundings.

It was dark, but Icheb’s optical implant slowly picked out details of the space around him as he groggily grimaced back into consciousness. The only light inside the cramped space was a thin line of safety LEDs around the foot of the walls, their cold blue eyes lighting the edges of the crates around him. His assessment of the room was interrupted as he coughed violently. His breath caught, the pain in his chest flared at the harsh movement, and the metallic taste spreading across his tongue suggested deeper injuries.

 _Nanoprobes should have fixed that,_ he wondered as he tried to shake off the sickly feeling creeping into his stomach. Something was deeply wrong.

“Finally awake there, kid?” A gruff voice huffed from Icheb’s right as a hunched, elderly looking xB leaned into view. Her left eye was sewn shut, the other peered at him suspiciously. “I thought you Starfleet types didn’t sleep on the job?”

“Icheb to-” He instinctively slapped his hand against his chest to start a hail.

“Ha!” The old woman laughed, mirthlessly. “Yeah, like they’d leave you with _that!”_

Icheb pinched his brow and tried to think as the woman continued.

“They probably pinned your combadge to a probe and sent it off in the other direction.” She laughed, “S’what I’d do.”

Icheb tried to concentrate. He grasped at memories, searching through his internal sensor readings trying to figure out how long he'd been unconscious, but the information slipped through his fingers. His nanoprobes felt strangely sluggish. He’d been on a reconnaissance mission. For the Rangers on-

“I was on Daimanta, I-”

“Not any more, and don’t bother shouting for help, everyone on this ship’s one of them.” She gestured to the door, its dull metal surface was heavily gouged.

“Who?” Icheb asked, eyeing the door and wondering if the scratches were wide enough apart to be from fingernails. He suspected they were.

“Harvesters.” The old woman shook her head.

“What’s a-”

“I _told you_ Starfleet hasn't got a clue!” A nasal, male voice interrupted.

Icheb turned to his left. In the darkness he could just make out the shape of a Tellarite man crouched protectively next to another xB laid out on the floor. The man’s scarred, piglike snout wrinkled in disdain as he looked up at the science officer. “Must be nice, spending your time on a protected world.”

 _“Fucking Federation…”_ The andorian xB on the floor scoffed before breaking into a rasping cough.

“I know, sweetheart.” The first man’s expression softened, stroking the other’s blue face tenderly. “Just try to rest, ok?”

Icheb looked at the xB weakly resting on the man’s knee, he was barely breathing. Icheb could hardly see a pulse.

“xB’s have been going missing for months!” The old woman said as she grabbed a broken piece of piping from next to her and used it as a crutch to drag herself closer. She leant heavily on one hip, legs sliding uselessly behind her. “And what has the Federation done? Huh? Nothing.”

Icheb tugged his bloodied uniform straighter. “I’m certain if command were aware then-”

“Ah! You’re one of them _idealistic types!”_ She chuckled, her Bajoran nasal ridge wrinkling. “Fat lot of good that’ll do you out here.”

Icheb pushed himself to his feet and tried not to groan at the pain. They needed to find a way out.

 _“Woah, woah!”_ The Tellarite gasped. “How in _Krognik’s_ name are you doing that?”

“He can walk?!” A little girl's voice interrupted from somewhere in the dark. 

“What kinda xB are you, exactly?” The old woman’s voice sounded faintly impressed. “The mag-dampeners in here knock out most of your implants. Sends your cortical node haywire too. Where you from?”

“Delta Quadrant.” Icheb said over his shoulder, walking shakily to the door and assessing the seal. “And I don’t _have_ a cortical node.”

There was no control panel on the inside and the seal seemed tight. He tried to prise the doors open with no luck. His fingers sank into the grooves where someone had tried this before him, his stomach sank too.

“The Delta Quadrant?! No _wonder_ they made an extra trip!” The Tellarite laughed, tugging on his filthy yellow beard. “You’ll be worth more than the rest of us put together!”

“What do you mean _worth?”_ Icheb turned around.

“Starfleet really _is_ clueless, huh?” The pig faced man replied. “Harvester’s snatch xBs from the outer systems and then- _OW!”_ he stopped as the old woman rapped him painfully on the hand and, with a pointed cough, nodded to the little girl crawling out from behind a crate.

“Well, I’m sure you get the picture?” He finished, shaking his hand and turning back to stroke the white hair of his mate on the floor. “Sweetheart? Ren? _Hey,_ come on now, _wake up-”_

Icheb turned, moving to help when he heard the door console beep through the bulkhead behind him. He froze and pressed himself against the wall, listening.

“Hey Vup, did you see the Boss’s transmission yet?” A slimy voice broke into a laugh.

 _“Absolutely.”_ Came the deep, reptilian response. “Looks like it’s finally open season on Annika!”

* * *

Raffi ducked under Ian’s arm as he worked on fixing the broken lights. She could hear the rest of the crew gathered in the mess, shaken but safe, and in sore need of some comfort. Raffi had a plan.

The holodeck doors opened to the default programme of the Chateau study.

 _Right,_ she thought, hands on hips. “Computer, play rain sounds.”

The holodeck flawlessly played back the sound of rain tapping on the glass, at odds with the bright blue sky and faint wisps of summer clouds outside of the window.

“No, that’s _too_ weird.” She shook her head.

“Computer, play rainstorm sounds and change the weather outside the Chateau to...an autumn evening.” 

The sky outside faded to black and a thin moon hung, nestled safely in the clouds over the quiet vineyard. She padded over to draw the curtains and held her knuckles for a moment against the cool glass. The leaves outside rustled in the autumn rain. 

_Perfect,_ she thought. Raffi drew the curtains, fluffed the pillows and hooked her hand under a lamp to click it on. She surveyed her work, nodding in satisfaction at the cosy atmosphere of the room.

“Computer, add a fire to the grate.” The computer obliged, filling the hearth with a roaring log fire. Raffi shook her head.

“Less. Modify it to two hours into the burn time.” The fire shrank back to a docile, crackling flame. Raffi leaned on the back of the sofa for a moment and watched the fire. Closing her eyes at the feeling of the gentle holographic heat on her face.

 _Yeah,_ she smiled, _this would do._

Raffi made her way back to the mess to gather the beleaguered crew. She shepherded them up the steep stairs and grabbed Seven’s patchwork blanket from the mess table bench on the way past.

 _Seven won’t mind I don’t think,_ Raffi thought with a quiet smile. She tugged the blanket around her like a cape and followed the others.

The tired crew shuffled into the cosy study, making themselves at home. Rios took a moment to shake Steward’s hand and offer a wordless nod of gratitude, before the holo excused himself to help Ian with the repairs. 

“Don’t want to join us?” Raffi asked the departing holo.

“The advantage of not having a body Ms. Musiker is that I don’t need to rest what I don’t have.” The EHH smiled and looked back through the open holodeck door as the Captain and Agnes curled up together in an armchair. Rios pulled a book from the side table as the doctor rested her face against his chest.

“And you seem to have done _my_ job for me already,” Steward looked impressed. “We’ll work on the repairs. You _‘rest up’.”_

Raffi squeezed his arm in appreciation and stepped inside. She took a seat next to Soji on the couch. 

“Need a hug, honey?” Raffi said warmly and raised her arm as an invitation.

Soji looked torn, the Synth’s face a picture of longing edged with shy unease.

“It’s ok if you don’t.” The OPS officer added. Soji nodded shyly, and shuffled up the sofa into the older woman’s warm embrace.

Raffi felt a pang of nostalgia for when Gabe had been the one crawling into her arms. She rubbed her knuckles gently against Soji’s arm and imagined what it would be like to sit with her own family like this. Gabe, Pel and her new little Granddaughter, curled up with her by the fire. It sent a pang of longing through her. She glanced at Soji, a slight bittersweet smile crossed her face, the crew of the La Serena might not be blood, but they _were_ family. She indulged for a moment in imagining her and her granddaughter all grown up and sharing a hug like this after a hard day. Her heart ached in her chest.

Elnor finished moving the logs around with a poker and settled on the floor by the fire. The warm light playing off his dark hair.

“On nights like this in the House of Truth I would play the Romulan zither for my Qowat Milat Sisters.” Elnor said, rubbing his hands together and looking proudly as the fire crackled and spat warmly.

“I would enjoy playing for my La Sirena sisters as well, and, er my _brother of course”_ he added sheepishly looking at Rios, the word sounding a little awkward on his tongue.

“What did you call yourself when you were with the nuns? A sister?” Rios asked over the top of his book.

Elnor nodded. “Though I can never _truly_ be a Qowat Milat, I was still allowed to call myself their Sister"

“Then don’t say ‘brother’ on my account, kid.” Rios settled deeper into the armchair, and raised his book as a shield though his voice was warm, “I’ll be your sister.”

Cris didn’t look up, but he did feel Elnor’s warm hand against his ankle. And he did smile, albeit into his hardback. 

“The seven string or the twelve?” Steward asked materialising, folio open, in front of Elnor.

“Oh! The seven please!” Elnor beamed as a large wooden Romulan zither appeared on the low coffee table in front of him. The dark varnish under it’s silken strings reflected the dancing firelight behind him. His long fingers plucked the strings, it was _perfectly_ in tune. He turned to thank the holo, who was already disappearing with a graceful bow. Elnor knelt on his heels, squared his shoulders and began to play. The low, ponderous melody mingling with the crackle of the fire and the rain against the glass.

Cris pressed a kiss into Agnes’ hair as the little doctor drifted off to sleep. With a contented sigh he turned the page of his book, enjoying the comfortable quiet of the crew around him.

By the time Elnor’s music was drawing to a close, Soji had shuffled further down the sofa. The Synth’s head rested comfortably on a cushion in Raffi’s lap, while the older woman played companionably with her hair.

“Time for bed, honey?” Raffi said quietly to Soji, brushing the hair out of her eyes, and trying to brush away the familiar feeling of Gabe’s head on her lap all those years ago.

Soji’s brow furrowed, “One more song?” She mumbled softly in her half asleep state, tugging the patchwork blanket closer around her.

Elnor looked brightly at Raffi, “I can play _The Flowing Water_ again?”

Raffi smiled “Maybe something a little shorter?” She looked fondly at the almost sleeping Synth. 

_She looks so young,_ Raffi thought, before turning back to Elnor. “Know any lullabies?”

Elnor nodded softly. He plucked a few notes, humming briefly to find his key. The Romulan ran his fingers deftly along the strings he began a final, lilting lullaby. Raffi recognised the words as an old Romulan nursery rhyme, but the melody was unfamiliar. A gentle minor tune felt like a soft blanket around her shoulders. Agnes nuzzled her face closer into Cris’ shirt and the Captain tucked his book down the side of the armchair cushion to free his hands to better hold her against him.

“Snap.” Cris looked at Soji and then nodded down at Agnes, asleep, in his arms.

“I can carry Soji to her room, Raffi?” Elnor offered quietly.

Raffi tucked the sleeping Synth’s hair gently behind her ear and nodded to the Romulan. Elnor carefully eased his hands under Soji’s body with the effortlessness of someone who’d done this same kindness for his Sisters before. 

“That was a beautiful melody Elnor,” Raffi asked as the young man walked slowly to the door. “What’s it called?”

 _“Sei nnea rhi.”_ The Romulan said softly as he cradled a sleeping Soji in his arms with reverent care. He nodded goodnight to them and quietly padded out of the room.

“What’s that mean then?” Cris looked to Raffi as the door hissed closed.

Raffi shook her head and smiled, “That would be ‘ _Third of Five’.”_

Rios chuckled, “Ok, which one of us had ‘composing music’ on their bingo card?”

“Nah,” Raffi tucked her feet under her on the sofa. “I had ‘romantic bread making’.”

“Looks like we both win.” Rios smirked. “That kid’s got it _bad_ for the xB.”

“I know the feeling,” Raffi mumbed.

“Really, Raf? I hadn’t noticed.” Rios looked pointedly at the OPS officer’s hand which, in the absence of Soji's head in her lap, had taken to running softly backwards and forwards over Seven's blanket. He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Say, Cris, I’m just gonna see if the comms are back up yet.” Raffi hung the blanket over the edge of the sofa as she stood. “Maybe see if I can send a message to Seven.”

“Dear Seven,” Rios mused aloud. “I just listened to some romantic Romulan music, and I thought of you…”

Raffi glared at her friend. “The only thing stopping me from kicking you is your human shield.”

“She has a _name,_ Raf!” He teased. “Anyways it’s a tactical defense. Tell Emmet for me, he’ll be proud.”

* * *

Raffi’s message to Seven bounced frustratingly off the ion cloud below and back across La Sirena’s comms array. The OPS officer huffed and watched a message arrive for her instead. She looked at the junk ad for snakeleaf and deleted it. She was about to close the comms screen when something odd flashed across the data stream. Raffi caught it out the corner of her eye. A suspicious looking signal rerouting across La Sirena’s array, bouncing back off the ion cloud and winking inexplicably into nothingness.

 _That was weird._ She thought and she stood to go to bed. She glanced again at where the signal had vanished and lowered herself back down into the OPS chair. _Can’t hurt to stick around a while and see if that happens again…_

It was well past 03:00 hours when Cris padded out across the deck, bleary eyed and hand in hand with Agnes.

“Still up, Raf?”

“Mmh-hmm,” she said over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off the readout.

Agnes stretched, “Still no comms?” she said, her question trailing off into a yawn.

“Not yet, but I thought,” Raffi rotated her new scanning frequency again, “I thought I saw something.”

“Conspiracy time,” Agnes patted the Captain on the back and kissed his cheek, “I’ll be in bed. Night, you two.”

“Night, honey,” Raffi said, only half concentrating as she glared at the annoyingly _normal_ readings.

Rios walked over to OPS to get a closer look at the console. “What do you mean ‘thought you saw something’?”

Raffi squinted at the latest subspace sensor sweep. “Just a _shimmer_ in the data.” She flourished her fingers.

“Ah, it’s the _poetic_ time of the night now is it?” He teased.

“Piss off,” Raffi grumbled. “I mean it's like something was _there_ and then it just... _wasn’t.”_

“Just for a second, I,” she hissed, her hand grasping at air.

Cris recognised that look in his old friend's eye. That hunger to solve a problem. There wasn’t any fighting it and only a fool would try. 

“I’d say don’t stay up all night but I know you won’t listen,” He squeezed her shoulder. She leant her cheek against his hand but didn’t take her eyes from the read out.

“Just don’t break your brain OK, Raf?” He said walking away. “Or my scanners!”

Raffi settled deeper into the chair with a wiggle. She pursed her lips and her fingers together, and waited.

The OPS officer was beginning to give up hope of seeing the data anomaly again when something shot across the sensor sweep.

 _There!_ She scrambled to lock on to the signal and could feel it darting like a fish through her open next.

“No, no, _no!”_ She muttered, hands flying across the controls as she tried to chase it down. The shivering point of data flitted just behind her grasp.

She hurriedly pulled up a holo-control and set La Sirena analysing what she could. Data scrolled passed at the edge of Raffi’s vision as her eyes darted between the controls and the sensor sweep. She glanced at the readings, it was a transmission of some kind. 

_Weird,_ she thought, _is that...Borg?_

The signal looked like it was about to vanish as Raffi began slamming reroutes closed in front of it, narrowing down comms pathways until-

_“Gotcha!”_

She clapped in delight and looked around the empty bridge for applause. Hugh Two sleepily meowed in consolation from his usual spot in the Captain’s chair.

“At least _someone’s_ here for the victory.” She grinned and turned back to her console. Raffi squinted at the shimmering subroutine. It _looked_ Borg. She checked the scans to see if there was anything transmitting from the planet.

 _Nothing._ The thick ion cloud still smothered all transmissions from the surface.

“The hell?” She muttered as she looked closer. It wasn’t just one signal...it was _two._

She pinched the readout to get a closer look. There was a regular old vanilla Federation subspace communication data packet but tightly curled around it was what looked like a Borg subspace signal, effectively encasing it.

“Weird.” She mumbled to herself. She'd never seen anything like it. The OPS officer carefully pried the two signals apart and analysed them further. On closer inspection the Borg signal wasn’t _actually_ Borg, it just had some kind of residual Borg energy signature. 

_Maybe someone using Borg tech?_ She wondered.

The subspace message was addressed to ‘Annika Hansen’, but the subspace I.D. she recognised as Seven’s. Raffi slid the message for Seven safely over to one side and focussed on the Borg code, pulling it apart. It was beautiful, she mused.

Like a butterfly catcher pinning a new specimen to a cork board Raffi peered at the construction of the code. It had a clear ‘catch and kill’ algorithm with a seemingly unconnected list of names to target. Some she recognised as old Starfleet officers. Some she didn’t know at all. But the command was clear. Messages from these senders were squashed before they reached their intended recipient.... Seven.

 _This one would have worked too if it wasn’t for the ion storm,_ Raffi thought. Realising that the electromagnetic energy must have sent the signal bouncing wildly back across La Sirena’s comms array.

 _Who the hell is messing with Seven’s subspace messages?_ Raffi glared at the squirming Borg-like algorithm. That familiar feeling of sensing a conspiracy crept at her neck. She wished she had the synthetic snakeleaf that Emil had left on her dresser. She shook away the thought and concentrated instead on the offending algorithm.

This was _elite_ level encryption. As Raffi pulled the code apart a line at a time she shook her head in awe. Whoever designed this was a comms expert without a doubt and someone with a real flair for secrecy. There were reroutes, data baffles, comm-paths being spliced through _Freecloud_ of all places. The majority of subspace traffic was getting through but that seemingly unconnected list of people were getting sorted out. It was a perfect filter. And it was _nearly_ invisible. No way you’d notice it unless you were looking and only then if you were looking _as it happened._

Raffi thought back to Seven’s account of her life as a Ranger. Seven _had_ said Bjayzl was a communications expert. Raffi leaned back in her chair. _That had to be it._ That woman had managed to seal off Seven from a whole _host_ of people trying to contact her and the skills she’d used to do it with were _breathtaking_.

 _Oh, she was good,_ thought Raffi. _Really_ _fucking good._

The OPS officer cracked her knuckles.

 _Not as good as me though,_ she smirked and set to work.

Raffi wasn’t sure how long she’d chipped away at the freaky machine language of Bjayzl’s algorithm. Only that pulling one thread of code seemed to lead to something new each time. All those messages weren’t being deleted, they were just being bounced and if she could just pull them back then...

With a final tug on a string of code Raffi gawped as the hidden messages suddenly splayed out across her console. Data points tumbling out of her readout and up onto the holo-consoles around her. Each new message winked in as a separate point of green light, spilling out around her station and _filling_ the bridge.

There were _hundreds_ of messages. Holo-images. Sound files. La Sirena’s auxiliary data banks groaned to life as the ship tried to begin playing all of them, _all at once._

“Shit!” Raffi hissed, attempting to stop the flow.

“No, just _stop!”_ She tried to pause the recordings, hands flying frantically over the console. The OPS officer already felt _desperately_ guilty at the accidental breach of Seven’s private data. The holo readout shuddered under the strain as the huge backlog of recordings started playing over each other. New windows popping up one after another. Messages clipped into each other. A garbled, enthusiastic cacophony. The tone of which was _overwhelmingly_ filled with love.

“Hey, Miral! Say ‘cheese’ for Aunty Ani!”

“-here to accept the _Award for Excellence in Astrometrics,_ Naomi Wildman! - I'd like to thank Seven of Nine, the greatest teacher and _friend_ that I ever-”

“Say it again for Daddy?” “ _Bedtime is irrelevant”._ “HA! Did you get that?!”

“So, my clarinet recital is on Freecloud this year. I don’t know if you’re still over that way, Seven, but the tickets are at the box office for you under ‘ _Kim’.”_

“-and well now, I _know_ the recipe states leola root, but I thought maybe you could just -” 

“Tom will tell you I’m an engineer not a speech writer. But there wouldn’t be a project in the first place if it wasn’t for Seven, so-”

“Seven, I have wondered, not infrequently, if you are receiving these birthday messages. Know that the Vulcan scholar-”

“-gotta meet the puppies! Here’s Delta… and, uh, _hey!_ Flyer! _Get off that!-”_

“-was wondering if you’d like to catch up sometime and-”

“-just drop in you’re ever in the sector and-“

“Would have loved you to have been there, Sev-”

“Thinking of you-“

“-sh you were here-“

“Door’s always open-”

“-miss you, Ani-”

Raffi didn’t feel herself start to cry. It was only when La Sirena’s protesting memory core finally managed to stem the flow of holo-playback that she realised her cheeks were wet.

 _All that love._ Raffi wiped her face as she looked around her at the letters, at the frozen smiling faces. _All those people._

 _More than a decade of data._ Raffi shook her head in disbelief. _And Seven had seen none of it. How cruel to make her think she was all alone, how utterly-_

The distant sound of a baby crying pulled Raffi from her thoughts.

“Huh?” Raffi mumbled, wondering which holo-recording hadn’t paused.

 _“Hello?”_ An unfamiliar voice replied uncertainly.

 _Shit._ Raffi thought, panicking. _Is that a live feed?_

“Just, er, gimme a second,” Raffi said, stalling for time, brushing files and folders out of the way and trying to find the source of the voice. She moved a holo image of a wedding to the side and found the open subspace call window.

“We’ve been having issues with our comms-” Raffi said apologetically to the young woman on the viewscreen, her brown hair was pulled up in a messy bun that wobbled as she bounced an infant on her hip. The mother’s brow was slightly ridged. 

_She might be half Klingon,_ Raffi thought. _Probably less._

“Sorry,” Raffi smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t hear your call come through,”

_And I don’t remember answering it either..._

The young woman looked confused. _“Yeah, actually,_ _you_ _called_ _here_ _.”_

Raffi glanced at the gently flashing _‘return call’_ command she must have pressed in her frantic dash to stop the uncontrollable playback of messages.

 _Oh shit,_ thought Raffi. She had some explaining to do.

* * *

The heavy door screeched open and Vup inhaled deeply. The heady cocktail of lactic acid and tangy ammonia confirmed his suspicions. An ex-Borg was already dead. The reptiloid sighed in frustration and stepped into the hold. A pig faced xB was weeping over the already spoiling goods.

 _What idiot species has the Borg augmenting their respiratory system?_ Vup made a mental note to not to knock any others of this breed with today’s sedative combination. This could be a big dent in the runs profit margin. 

Vup crossed the room and grabbed the dead xB by the ankle. 

“I’ll disassemble this one.” Vup said, hauling the corpse over his broad shoulder and turning to the mercenary. “You tell Bjayzl we had to take a set of components out of wet storage.”

“No!” The crying xB yelled. “He’s my mate, _please.”_

"Don't worry, you'll be joining him soon enough." Vup chuckled.

The pig faced man scrabbled at Vup's legs, trying to reach high enough to grab at the body, inarticulate wails only growing louder.

Vup was about to silence the crying with a kick when he felt something slam against his thick skull. He turned to see his human mercenary pinning a struggling Brunali xB face first to the wall. A pipe falling from the xB’s hands to the floor with clang.

Icheb struggled against the mercenary's grip, arms held behind his back. “I’m Lieutenant Icheb, Science officer, USS Coleman. You will take me to your superior officer-”

Vup laughed, “Who do you think you are?”

“I believe I just said.” Icheb said flatly. Somewhere in the room an xB gasped.

The science officer struggled again against the mercenary's tight grip. “I am a Starfleet Officer. Your conduct is in direct violation of the Articles of the Federation. You will comply or-” a heavy scaled fist knocked the rest of the words out of the Brunali’s mouth.

“I don’t care if you _are_ worth more than the ship,” Vup snarled, “you don’t tell me what to do.”

Icheb spat blood onto the floor.

“These people are Federation citizens,” he said looking at the three other xB’s, “they should be treated as such.”

“There’s _no such thing_ as an ‘xB citizen’. Only _goods,”_ Vup slapped the back of the corpse over his shoulder, “for transport.”

Vup idly wondered why this xB was able to stand given the magfield in the room.

“You may have delusions of being a person, boy, but really you’re just _cargo.”_ The reptiloid plucked a heavy looking controller from his pocket and twisted a dial higher. 

Icheb felt his legs buckle under him and he slumped in the mercenary’s hands. The human let him fall and Icheb crumpled to the deck like a ragdoll. 

“That’s better.” Vup’s breath was hot and rotten on his face, a clawed hand squeezed his face. “I like it better when the cargo doesn’t move itself around.”

Vup slapped his cheek. 

“Now, you just lie there and be grateful you’re not one of the _pretty ones.”_ Vup laughed and kicked the science officer over to the other huddled xB’s. 

* * *

Raffi watched the young woman on the viewscreen move the crying infant against her shoulder. _“Sorry. It didn’t say ‘private’, I hope you don’t mind but I had to answer to stop it ringing. It was waking the baby.”_

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” Raffi cringed in embarrassment. “Our comms are all just over the place and-“ Raffi had a thought, “could you not just mute it?”

 _“No,”_ the woman sighed. _“Dad has it hooked to this monstrosity.”_ She held up an ancient looking corded telephone. She looked at it disdainfully before putting it down. “ _Don’t ask. It’s a whole_ _ thing. _ _And it’s loud.”_ The baby sobbed again and Raffi’s stomach twisted guiltily.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry. I can’t apologise enough. Our data banks just took a big hit and-” Raffi’s eyes caught the subspace I.D. as La Sirena continued her belated closing files and holo-image windows:

“ _Contact Priority: Alpha. Contact Grouping: Voyager. Contact Name: Lt.T. E. Paris.”_

“Sorry, but you don’t happen to know a ‘Tom Paris’ do you?”

 _“Sure,”_ she said, distracted and she hushed the baby against her chest. _“That’s my dad, I think he’s out back with the Camaro- let me go get him for you.”_

Before Raffi could reply the young woman had slid her fingers down the viewscreen muting Raffi's end.

 _“Daaaaad?”_ She called before adding a muffled _“Where is he?”_ As she moved away from the viewscreen's pickup.

 _Oh god,_ Raffi thought. _Should I even be doing this?_ This really wasn’t her conversation to have but she was just so close and- 

She dried her nervous palms against her pants and looked instead at the chaotic but welcoming room on the viewscreen. There was an artfully framed, black and white _‘Captain Proton’_ print hung above a small fireplace. The mantle underneath it was filled with knickknacks; a ceremonial Klingon knife was tucked safely behind a Risian glitter snow globe. A propped up postcard read ‘ _Chez Sandríne’_ in bold type next to a collection of baby's bottles and flannel cloths.

Raffi heard a door open off screen and some muffled conversation.

 _“Tom, you’re being ridiculous!”_ A woman laughed from out of sight of the imager. Her voice was deeper than the mother's had been. A man in oil stained overalls laughed and walked over to a table by the fireplace. He slid a large black disk out of a cardboard sleeve, a handsome blue skinned man beamed from the cover. He placed the disk on something that looked like Cris’ Walkman and blew dust off the surface.

“Hi! ‘Scuse me?!” Raffi waved at the screen but no one seemed to be paying attention.

 _“We gotta practice!”_ The man said. _“If I get out-danced_ _again_ _by Harry then I’m gonna die of embarrassment. Second wedding- it’s a rematch! And I_ _know_ _they’re getting lessons.”_

Offscreen, the woman laughed. _“You trying to upstage the man at his own wedding?”_

 _“No trying involved, we’re_ _going_ _to! For the dancing at least.”_

He dropped the needle, and waited for the crackle at the edge of the disk to pass, nodding in satisfaction as a sultry jazz trumpet blared to life. A crisp snare drum hissed to which the man strutted comically in time, hips swaying as he exaggeratedly beckoned the woman with a finger.

 _Oh god, this was getting embarrassing._ Raffi waved at the screen but the two dancers were too busy.

 _“Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher”_ the man sang offering a hand to his partner. She took it with a good-natured sigh. He wrapped a confident arm snuggly around her waist, taking his hand in hers and biting his lip.

 _“She was a low-down hoochie-coocher”_ he wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis.

 _“I’m thinking hoochie-coocher isn’t a compliment?”_ The woman said dryly, but with a smile. Raffi could swear she recognised her.

The man continued with a swaying two-step. _“She was the roughest, toughest frail,”_ He kissed her on the cheek.

_“Better, Tom-“_

Raffi held a hand over her brow, _oh_ _god, please just answer the call and stop flirting-_

 _“But Minnie had a heart_ _ as big as a whale” _

_“_ _ Hey! _ _Who you calling a whale?”_

 _“Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi!”_ The man sang gleefully ignoring his partner's protests.

_“Honestly, Tom. That’s not even a language!”_

Raffi’s view was interrupted by a sudden pair of dark canine eyes in a shock of white fuzzy fur as a curious westie came to inspect the viewscreen.

 _“Oi! Delta! Down!”_ Tom shouted. _“Get off there!”_

_“Oh shit, is that thing on?”_ His face fell and he flushed in embarrassment as he noticed Raffi on the screen. _“Whatever your selling we’re not buying.”_

 _“Er, hi. You’re Tom Paris, right?”_ Raffi nervously rubbed the side of her neck, _“You don’t know me but-”_

 _“Hang on, I recognise that voice-“_ Tom’s dance partner muttered.

 _“Move.”_ The woman shoved Tom along on the chair and squinted at Raffi’s face in the viewscreen, her half Klingon features looming into view.

_“Musiker, is that you?”_

“Wait… _Torres?”_ Raffi couldn’t believe it.

 _“I haven’t seen you in years!”_ B’Elanna sat down shaking her head in disbelief. _“Last time I saw you, you were on DS12, rescuing some loser freighter Captain from a bar fight.”_

“Everything ok there, Raf?” Rios said as he ambled past on the way to breakfast.

 _“Yeah_ _that_ _guy!”_ The engineer pointed to Cris.

Raffi laughed.

 _“Wait_ _you’re_ _Musiker?”_ Tom looked confused before turning to stare incredulously at his wife, _“As in your ex-from-the-Academy, Musiker?”_ Tom leaned back in his chair and rubbed his sideburn thoughtfully, _“Huh.”_

 _“What?”_ B’Elanna asked as Tom looked back at the view screen.

 _“Nothing, I just... I thought you were a guy.”_ He shrugged before his face lit up as a thought struck him. _“Hang on though, that means it was_ _you_ _that knocked Maxwell Burke outta the ‘66 Kickboxing final?”_

Raffi chuckled, and raised her fists playfully, “They didn’t call me _‘One Minute Musiker’_ for nothin’!” She grinned.

 _“There were…_ _other_ _reasons,”_ B’Elanna chuckled as Raffi glared back with mock-deadpan annoyance but the engineer was already distracted, staring over Raffi’s shoulder at the interior of the upper deck.

 _“Wait, are you on a Kaplan F17?”_ B’Elanna scoffed, _“I didn’t know they even still_ _made_ _those. Terrible ship!”_ She laughed.

 _“Gorgeous ship!”_ Tom gushed at the same time.

 _“You’re kidding me, Tom?”_ B’Elanna turned to her husband. “ _The warp engine is basically a lightbulb plugged into an Andorian lemon.”_

Tom waved a hand dismissively. _“You’re focussing on the wrong thing, B’Elanna! It’s a classic! The silhouette. The_ _style_ _!”_

 _“The retrofitting costs.”_ She interrupted, _“The fuel injectors are a joke.”_

 _“You say retrofitting,”_ Tom rolled his eyes, _“I say customising.”_

Raffi shimmied into her chair to enjoy the show.

 _“And before you bring the Camaro into this I-“_ Tom looked back to the viewscreen.

 _“Ah, sorry, sore subject.”_ He laughed. _“Won’t be able to stop if I get going on that one-“_

 _“_ _Much_ _like the Camaro,”_ B’Elanna teased. She leaned an elbow on the desk and rested her chin on it. _“You fix those brakes yet, Tom?”_

Tom scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked sheepishly at Raffi. _“Can we maybe have another go at introductions here?”_

Raffi gestured to Tom to go ahead before she realised she’d tucked her feet up on the OPS chair without realising, feeling relaxed and at home in the company of the couple on the viewscreen.

 _“Nice to meet you, Musiker,”_ he nodded. _“What can we do for you?”_

“Ok, well I guess I’m calling, accidentally, because of Seven-” 

_“Seven?_ _Our_ _Seven?”_ Tom interrupted, leaning in toward the viewscreen, _“Borg, blonde, could-kill-you-with-her-eyebrow Seven?”_

Raffi chuckled at the description, “Yeah, that one.”

 _“Wow! Hey, what’s she up to? How do you know her and-“_ his eyes suddenly widened. _“Oh my god, is she ok?”_

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Raffi waved her hands, “but it looks like you’ve been trying to get in touch and your messages haven’t been getting through-“

 _“I knew it!” _Tom slapped the desk. The action sent the viewscreen wiggling and summoned two barking westies tumbling over each other to jump at his knees.

 _“Didn’t I tell you B’Elanna? I_ _knew_ _she wouldn’t just cut us out!”_

He scooped up a terrier onto his lap to split up the barking pair. Flyer licked his face excitedly.

 _“Is she there? Can you put her on?”_ Tom’s boyish enthusiasm made him look younger than his greying temples suggested.

“Oh, she’s not here right now but I’ll tell her to call you the second the ship to surface comms open back up and-”

 _“Listen, Musiker, if you seriously think I’m getting off this line after_ _thirteen years_ _of not coming even_ _half_ _as close as this, then you’ve got another thing coming!”_

“Sure, but,” the OPS officer chuckled, “we don’t really know when we’ll get transporters and comms back. It could be hours and I-”

 _“We’ll wait,”_ Tom eased back in his chair and laced his fingers around the back of his head. “ _I’ve got all the time in the world.”_

* * *

“We haven’t got long.” Vup sniffed the dead xB over his shoulder. “This thing smells like it’s been dying for days.” He shrugged and strode across the room, dumping the body unceremoniously on top of a large crate.

Somewhere in the room an xB whimpered pathetically.

Vup drew a dirty, ceramic utility knife from his pocket and flicked open a serrated blade. “Best make the most of it, eh?”

“But we’re still _days_ away from the facility.” The mercenary raked his blonde hair out of his tired eyes. “Even if we do make the customs check we’ll never get to Vergessen in time and-”

Vup silenced him with a wet claw across his lips, “Do _you_ want to explain to Bjayzl why you let a Ferengi’s-life-savings worth of good components get _blood corrosion_ while you sat and did nothing?”

“No!” The young man sneered, “But, honestly, I don’t wanna call the Boss _at all._ She scares the shit outta me.”

“She should.” Vup grinned, looming over the corpse. He ran the knife under the buttons of the xB’s tattered shirt and exposed his chest. “I’ll dismantle this. You call the Boss.”

Even with the mag-dampeners as high as they were the xB’s were still managing to mumble to each other.

 _They almost look like people,_ Vup thought before shaking his head and setting to work, knife sliding through the dead xB’s pale blue abdomen. Vup rolled up his sleeve and sunk his arm into the still warm guts, blood splattering onto the floor. He pushed entrails out of the way until he felt metal against his fingertips. _Maybe this was going to be a good day after all._

Icheb tried to sit up but it felt as if his bones were too heavy. From where he’d landed on the cargo hold floor he couldn’t see what was happening. The visceral, wet sounds however left little to the imagination. 

The Tellarite was crying soundlessly, his face pushed against the floor where the mag-dampener had pinned him. Icheb tried to speak but the metal wiring inside his jawbone wouldn’t respond.

He looked at the little girl, staring past him, her eyes wide and terrified. In the tear filled reflection Icheb could just about pick out the figure of the reptiloid discarding a hunk of viscera to the side with a wet slap.

Icheb tried to catch her eye but she was transfixed in primal horror, paralized by fear.

The science officer closed his eyes and concentrated, willing his Borg transponder to respond.

 _Please,_ he thought. _Just give me this._

He felt a slow trickle along his tritanium spine as a tiny short range signal reached out. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried not to think about the sound of connective tissue snapping behind him.

He reached out with a short wave signal, weak and sluggish. Gently touching the other minds around him. He nearly flinched away at the raw pain of the man and the violent, prickling terror of the little girl. Though the elderly woman’s mind felt calm.

He recognised the stillness of someone who knew she was going to die soon.

Icheb took a breath and tried to achieve that same calm. He tried to think of somewhere happy. Somewhere safe. The cold of the cargo deck against his face fell away as he felt carpet under his polished shoes. He looked around in his mind at neat grey bulkheads and smartly dressed crewmen sitting down to eat in the mess hall. A Talaxian bustled past cheerfully, his arms piled high with plates.

Icheb looked to his side and saw an old Bajoran woman, hunched over a cane, her hair wrapped in a hooded shawl. One eye looking curiously around and the dream of the mess hall.

“A good trick.” She nodded, stepping to the side as two crewmen passed by, arms slung around each other’s shoulders and laughing.

“Nice one, Harry!” The man in red chuckled as he took a seat.

Icheb reached back into the dark again and took the little girl's hand. Her fear billowed around her mind like smoke.

“Just close your eyes and follow me." Icheb said softy. He felt the girl comply. The science officer turned back to the old woman, her arm now around the waist of the Tellarite.

“Where are we?” The little girl sniffed, tugging at Icheb’s shirt sleeve.

"This is Voyager,” Icheb nodded, “and these are my friends."

“You were a cute kid.” The old woman pointed with her cane at a young Icheb, sitting with the other xB’s at a long table, listening attentively to a stern looking blonde woman.

"Is that your mom?" The girl asked, pointing to the dream of Seven.

The Brunali paused before answering, "Yes," he nodded with a sigh, "I just wish I'd told _her_ that."

The four of them flinched as somewhere in the real world a ribcage cracked open.

“I’m scared.” The girl whimpered, clinging to Icheb’s leg.

“Me too.” The Brunali stooped to pick up the child, sitting her on his hip. “But Seven will know I’m missing. She’ll know something is wrong.” He brushed the girls hair out of her mismatched eyes.

“She’ll come for us.” Icheb blocked out the wet sounds in the distance and focussed on keeping this little island of warmth and safety alive.

“I know it.”

* * *

Seven finished the latest alteration to the Synth’s short range sensors. She didn’t like to admit it but the fatigue was starting to creep in. 

“Try now.” She said nodding to Hugh.

Hugh rubbed his tired eyes as the gold skinned Synth next to him started the scan in his place. The xB caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the lab's windows against the inky darkness of the night outside.

He looked exhausted. _They’d been at this for hours._

A sharp chime drew his focus back to the task at hand. He watched as the console showed the enhanced short range scanners finally cutting through the ion cloud.

“Success!” He grinned, watching the sensor readings spring up in front of Seven, her eyes moving quickly over the information.

“La Sirena is... _in one piece,_ save for some repairable damage and-”

“And-” Hugh looked to the Ranger anxiously.

“-and the crew are safe.” Seven felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “All lifesigns are stable.”

The xB’s shared a silent sigh of relief.

“Comms and transporters should be operational within a few hours.” The Synth said over her shoulder to Picard who nodded and walked over to the xB’s.

“Now try and get some _sleep_ between the two of you, hmm?” Picard rested a kind hand on Hugh’s shoulder. “That’s all they’ll be doing up there on the ship, I can assure you.” 

* * *

Elnor took another bite of his apple and winced at the latest shirt the half Klingon woman held up to the viewscreen for inspection.

“A confusing combination of both colour _and_ pattern.” He chewed the apple and shook his head. “I don’t understand _why_ the patterns have to clash so much. And why are there so many pink birds? It hurts my eyes.” 

_“Right answer!”_ B’Elanna looked smug and stuck her tongue out at her husband. Finding out that this freighter had a walking, talking truth machine was turning out to be a real highlight of the night. _“I like you, kid.”_ She smirked.

“I like you too.” Elnor beamed.

 _“Can we maybe play a different game now?”_ Tom groaned, head in his hands.

 _“Yes”_ B’Elanna beamed. _“We’re judging your music next.”_

* * *

Soji smiled as Agnes joined her, leaning against the railing above the mess hall. The Synth nodded to the bridge where Rios was engaged in a lively discussion over the viewscreen.

“This is fascinating.” She said to the doctor.

“What is?” Agnes asked as the Captain laughed uproariously.

“Well, Rios came to complain that Raffi had kept the comm line open for so many hours. He said-“ Soji put her hands on her hips and held an imaginary cigar as she mimicked the Captain’s gruff voice. “I'm not made of fuel or subspace credit, y’know, Raf?”

Soji chuckled and leaned back against the rail. “But then the two of them started talking about ‘vinyl’. I assumed they were talking about plastics, until it became clear that it’s _something_ to do with music.”

“Figures.” Agnes nodded.

“And now they’re now on about how it’s wrong that Starfleet won’t authorise new holos with sentience subroutines and they’re both _really_ into the practical implications of it.” Soji shrugged. “I was waiting for a turn since everyone _else_ had one but I’ve been here ages.”

The distant image of Tom gesticulated for emphasis and the Captain laughed. “That’s what _I_ said!” Rios’ cheerful voice carried from the bridge.

“Oh god,” Agnes said dryly, turning back to the Synth. “There’s _two_ of them.”

* * *

Tom slowly moved his fingers along the bridge of the guitar, _“Ok, so it’s a G here and then easy into E Minor.”_

Elnor watched the viewscreen carefully. He was seated on the floor of the bridge, the large Romulan zither taking up space in front of him. The young man copied the chord progression on his own instrument. 

_“That’s it!”_ Tom grinned, offering a thumbs up. _“You nailed it!”_

“The instrument is very delicate,” Elnor frowned. “That would be a bad idea.”

 _“Er, no, I mean you’re doing great.”_ Tom chuckled. He was beginning to flag after so many hours on the line, but this Romulan kid was sweet and he seemed to treat Tom’s entire collection of _Earth’s Greatest Twentieth Century Hits_ as if it was a sacred text to be studied reverently.

“Oh! Thank you!” Elnor beamed. “I have a great deal of experience playing music.”

 _“Sounds it,”_ Tom smiled, taking a sip from his upteenth coffee.

Elnor looked thoughtful as he continued, “Less so in courting a prospective lover.”

Tom nearly choked on his drink, _“Sorry?”_

“Hugh, the Director of the Borg Reclamation Project. I’m hoping he might be impressed with my musical ability.” Elnor said earnestly. “Rios said it worked for Seven!”

 _Where to even start with_ _ that? _ Tom thought, as he pulled on what little he could remember of Basic Command Training to stop his eyebrows making a dash for his hairline. _Hugh?_ He thought,  _That_ _Hugh? And who the hell was Seven trying to woo with music and - oh,_ _ shit, _ _the kid was staring again-_

_“Look Elnor, you just be you. At the end of the day that’s gotta be enough.”_

Elnor nodded sagely.

 _“But I guess a little music can’t hurt,”_ Tom winked, _“You want to try with the vocals this time?”_

Elnor nodded as Tom lined up his fingers over the frets.

_“Let's start with ‘Oh, I won't be afraid’?”_

“‘Just as long as you stand by me',” Elnor answered, placing his fingers on the zither’s strings in preparation, “I remember the words, Tom.”

* * *

The storm passed at last, the turbulent ion clouds parting to reveal the planet below.

Agnes eased the transporter controls upward, initializing the teleport. She looked impressed at her own work as Picard, Hugh and Seven smoothly materialised on the transport pad.

“Hugh!” Elnor exclaimed, leaping up onto the platform and throwing his arms around the xB in a tight hug. Lifting the other man a little off his feet and laughing as he did so.

Picard looked around at the beaten interior of the ship, offering a wave to Emmet and Ian who were repairing damage to the bulkhead near the bridge. 

“A rough ride, Captain?” the Admiral gestured to the repairs.

“Just a little turbulence,” Agnes interjected, leaning on the console and smiling at Rios, “nothing to worry about.”

Raffi caught Seven’s eye, unsure if she should go to greet her or not. The OPS officer folded her arms, and glanced away, rubbing her knuckles self consciously against her bicep and feeling like she’d missed her moment.

“Will you be needing anything else, Hugh?” Seven asked the other xB.

Hugh straightened his hair and looked at the Ranger with a broad grin. His nose wrinkling in delight as Elnor kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Seven, but no.” he replied.

 _Good,_ Seven thought. That was the answer she was hoping for.

“Picard,” the xB nodded to the Admiral as she stepped off the transporter pad.

Seven took a determined few steps forward and took Raffi’s hand in her own. Pulling her in the direction of the OPS officer’s quarters next to the armoury without breaking her stride.

Rios snorted and flashed his eyebrows knowingly at a shell-shocked Raffi.

“Hey, er, Seven?” Raffi floundered hopelessly as she followed in the xB’s wake, the door to her quarters hissing open. “Listen there’s something I should-”

“Unlike Elnor,” the xB said gently tugging Raffi into the room, “I’m not the most comfortable with public displays of affection.” 

The xB wound a hand around Raffi’s waist. _“Private_ displays of affection on the other hand?”

Raffi leaned into the feeling of Seven’s hand cupping the side of her face. The metal of the xB’s palm was cool, it must have been cold in the early desert morning at the transport site. Raffi’s thoughts were cut off as the same tantalising fingertips eased into her hair at the nape of her neck.

Seven closed the distance between them with a kiss, soft at first then deepening into something possessive and almost desperate. Raffi grinned at the feeling of the other woman’s lips against her own.

“Is this always how you say ‘hi’ when you come back from an away mission?” Raffi broke away with a breathless laugh, “I gotta say it’s a _great_ choice. You’d think you were excited to see me or something.”

Seven shrugged off her jacket and tossed it to the end of the bed.

“I would say _‘relieved’_ is more accurate.” The xB corrected. “When they told us about the storm, I thought-“ Seven’s words trailed off as her eyes caught the ghost of a bruise against Raffi’s hairline. “I admit I was afraid of-,” She looked at Raffi, raising her hand back to gently cradle the other woman’s neck,

 _-losing you,_ Seven’s expression seemed to say.

Raffi knew she needed to talk about Tom but all she wanted to do was pull Seven closer.

“Listen, Seven, I need to-“ Raffi began and was cut off by the Ranger easing her against the wall as if reading her thoughts.

“Something you need to-?” Seven murmured close against Raffi’s neck, “Continue. I’m listening.”

 _Damn it,_ Raffi shuddered at the feeling Seven’s hot breath against her neck. She hummed as the Ranger eased both the tank top and bra strap off Raffi’s shoulder. The warmth of the fabric replaced by the feeling of Seven’s lips gently pressed against her skin. Raffi let her head relax back in the pillow of her hair against the bulkhead, Seven’s hair brushed against her arm as the xB ghosted her lips across the tender skin. The feeling of Seven’s body pressed against her own was intoxicating. Raffi was grateful she was pinned against the bulkhead. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand otherwise.

Seven pulled back, her eyes falling to Raffi’s lips for a moment before searching the other woman’s gaze as if asking for permission as her fingers eased under the hem of Raffi’s tank top. Raffi felt like she could look at that softly questioning expression all day, if it wasn’t for the competing desire to close the distance between them. 

_Oh god, Raffi, get a grip,_ the OPS officer chided herself.

She squeezed her eyes closed, and silently cursed herself.

 _This could wait,_ she thought, however desperately her need seemed to erode her better judgement. She leaned her forehead against Seven’s, took a slow breath, hooked the shoulder strap back into place and pushed the other woman gently back.

A concerned expression flashed across the xBs face.

“Sorry, Raffi, I-“ Seven looked a little crestfallen.

“Oh _no,_ honey, don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely in favour of _this,”_ Raffi smiled and gestured between two of them with a loose hand before returning it to the familiar curve of Seven’s hip. 

_“Big fan_ of your previous work,” she grinned.

Seven breathed a sigh of relief that ended in a laugh.

“I just, I need to talk to you, ok?” Raffi said as she took Seven’s hand and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She patted the cover next to her. Seven followed her lead and sat, her expression curious and quietly expectant.

“There’s someone waiting to speak to you,” Raffi began, “a subspace call. But I gotta explain a few things first.”

“Such as?” Seven’s brow furrowed in curiosity.

“During the storm I spotted an issue with your subspace link, and _I fixed it,”_ She looked proud.

“But...I also saw some of your private messages.” Raffi continued, her glowing expression shrinking under the light of honesty into something more fragile. 

“I wasn’t snooping,” she added hastily, holding up her hands, “honestly, it was an accident. You can check the console data history if you don’t believe me and-“

“I trust you, Raffi.” Seven said simply.

“-or of course there’s the bridge logs and-“ there was a delay as Seven’s reply sunk in. The four words settled softly in her mind. She paused a moment, wondering if she’d misheard or misunderstood, feeling a drifting ember of some deeper attraction land in her chest as she looked at the xB.

 _She trusts me?_ Raffi felt her shoulders drop. She didn’t say _‘really?’,_ though it was written across her expression anyway.

Seven smiled and squeezed Raffi’s hand.

“Subspace?” the xB prompted, as if she hadn’t just turned Raffi’s world on its head.

Raffi looked down at their hands and re-focussed.

“Your subspace I.D. is compromised. _Was_ compromised. Bjayzl, I think, had a selective filter on your comms traffic and-“

“Impossible.” Seven said flatly.

 _“Possible.”_ Raffi assured, “It was impressive, I mean, I only spotted it because a message came in while I was looking right at the comms. And even _then_ I only saw it because the ion storm screwed with the reroute.”

“What was the nature of the filter?” Seven asked, curiosity building in her voice.

“Borg, I think,” Raffi said watching Seven’s eyebrows rise in response, “or at least it was _based_ on Borg tech. If I had to guess I’d say she used a long range subspace transponder from a drone paired with a kind of ‘catch and kill’ algorithm. _Probably_ self sustaining given the tech powering it. Would’ve just kept going forever. Anyway,” Raffi brushed the thought aside before continuing.

“I pulled the plug but all these messages spilled out. I heard some, not all of it, but it just took a while for the pause request to get through to the buffer. There was _a lot_ of data there.”

“I replicated this for you.” Raffi reached across to the nightstand and picked up a palm-holo. “The data influx _damn near_ crashed the memory buffer and Ian needed to move the files to give the primary data core a chance to reset.”

“But it’s there. All of it.” Raffi pushed the palm-holo into Seven’s hand, metal clicking softly against metal.

“What is this?” The xB said looking down at the device.

 _“Voyager,”_ Raffi smiled softly.

Seven paused a moment, looked up at Raffi’s expectant expression and then back down at the data storage device. “I-” Seven began.

“I’ll give you some privacy while you-” Raffi started to get up.

“No,” Seven reached out and caught her wrist, “I would appreciate the company.”

Seven hovered her thumb over the activation button. She breathed out shakily and clicked the palm-holo on.

The projected screen hovered between the two women as Seven scrolled slowly through the data. There were seemingly endless folders of data. Holo-images, letters, recordings. The Ranger’s eyes widened as she watched the numbers count back down through the years _2399, 2398, 2397…_

Her eyes scanned down to the largest folder titled “Idiot’s Log”. She opened it with tap and watched the file names scroll past:

_“Idiot’s Log: 237 - Pasta: Return of an old enemy!”_

_“Idiot’s Log: 511 - Miral’s pregnant, god we’re getting old, Ani!”_

_“Idiot’s Log: 654 - Tough day today, thinking of you.”_

Seven’s felt her throat begin to tighten. “These communications are all from-”

“Tom Paris, yeah,” Raffi nodded, “funny guy, real sweet.”

“You spoke to him?” Seven looked up, lowering the holo to get a clearer view of the other woman’s face.

“While you were planet-side, yeah.” Raffi smiled. “Well, he was on the line for hours so we _all_ talked to him in the end.”

Seven opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words.

Raffi continued. “He wound up teaching Elnor a song called ‘Go Greased Lightning’ and it was, _without a doubt,_ the worst 34 minutes of my life.” The OPS officer said, her eyes sparkling as she smiled.

“But how did you have his ID?”

“I _didn’t._ I was trying to pause all the data streaming out of OPS and I initiated a return call by mistake. I told Tom it was an accident but once he found out we were with _you_ then he wouldn’t disconnect. I don’t think I could get rid of him if I tried!”

“He’s still on the line?” Seven said, her voice wavering. “He wants to speak to me?”

“I don’t think he'd have spent _eighteen hours_ on a subspace call if he didn’t.”

“But I thought-,” Seven trailed off.

“What, honey?”

“I thought he hated me,” Seven said frankly. “The last time we spoke, it did _not_ end positively and then I never heard from him again. I assumed he had chosen to forget me.”

“This,” Raffi ran a hand down the palm-holo projection and sent the list of logs scrolling wildly, “is _really_ not the actions of someone who wanted to forget you, Seven.”

Raffi let the projection scroll for emphasis. “That’s _years_ of very deliberate _not forgetting.”_

“Raffi, I’m uncertain if it’s the right course of action,” Seven sighed deeply, “speaking to him after all this time. If he was doing this,” Seven nodded to the logs, “and getting no reply then what must he think of me?”

“Ok,” Raffi held up a hand to stop the other woman, “you can tell if I’m lying right?” She waggled her fingers. “With your xB superpowers?”

“Enhanced visual acuity, multispectral scanning and superior data processing.”

“Same difference,” Raffi shrugged. “So I spoke to Tom for _hours_ last night. He told me about you breaking his robot in Captain Proton, about when you _busted_ him for reading the Captain's logs and when you caught the bouquet at his wedding. And _every, single, time,_ he said your name, honey, he just-” Raffi held Seven’s gaze steadily, “he just _smiled.”_

The xB took in Raffi’s calm pulse, her steady hands and her open expression and, against everything she’d thought over the last thirteen years, dared to hope that maybe she still had a family out there somewhere.

“I _know_ you thought you were alone, Seven, that your friends had moved on, but seems like maybe they thought the same about you.”

“I can’t change what Bjayzl did, she took so much from you and I-“ Raffi swallowed and tried to keep her voice steady. “I’d hate to think she’s still keeping people away from you now.”

Raffi clicked the palm-holo off and rubbed the back of Seven’s hand comfortingly with her thumb.

“I transferred the subspace call to your quarters. Now obviously it’s your decision what you want to do, but it can't hurt to try right? And I’ll be here, honey,” Raffi squeezed Seven’s hand, “if you need anything.” 

Seven looked at Raffi’s expression, those kind, brown eyes were filled with so much reckless hope that the Ranger couldn’t help but feel some of it wearing off on her. Seven stood, and Raffi followed her lead to the door. The xB turning back as the door hissed open.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Raffi.”

“Don’t thank me,” The OPS officer kissed Seven sweetly on the cheek, _“you’re_ the unforgettable one.” 

“Now go say hi to Tom for me.” Raffi gently pushed the xB in the direction of her room. 

Seven clasped her hand behind her back and took a deep breath, which raised her shoulders if not her confidence as she walked into her quarters. After the hiss of her door faded, the silence of her small room was broken only by the sound of gentle snoring from the active projected view screen.

She eyed the stranger on the screen. His receding hairline peppered with grey at the temples, face half tucked into the crook of his elbow. But, from what she could see, she recognised her old friend. Seven’s expression softened and her resolve strengthened. She crossed the room and sat at the little desk.

The room behind the sleeping figure looked dark, the shadows of children’s toys littered the floor, and a cluster of empty coffee cups attested to their owner trying to stay awake. 

_It had been so long,_ she thought, before spotting the Captain Proton print on the wall behind her sleeping friend. _But maybe some things don’t change?_

Seven cleared her throat, “Tom?”

* * *

Raffi smoothed the bedsheets down where she and Seven had been sitting. They’d be in the background and she wanted the place to look nice. She tossed Seven’s jacket out of the way, and then after a second thought, reached to pick it up instead. She pressed the cold leather against her chest, letting her face rest on the collar. 

_God it smelled like her._

Raffi hugged it for a moment and wondered how Seven’s conversation with Tom was going. A faint smile crept at her mouth as she hung the jacket around the back of the desk chair and took a seat. It felt comforting there behind her. It felt safe.

Raffi brought up the subspace interface on the console and took a deep breath. She thought of how many years Tom must have spent doing this very thing. That one man effort; quietly, gently reaching out so often in the face of what must have seemed like constant rejection. Sending those hopeful little letters into the void, one after another, year after year. 

_It couldn’t hurt to try, right?_ She thought.

Raffi opened the subspace comms menu and created a data packet. She typed in _‘Gran’ma’s Log- 1’_ as the file name and added a little smiley face after the one. Felt childish and deleted it, before finally putting it back and, before she could chicken out, pressed record.

“Hi, honey,” Raffi smiled self consciously as a red light at the edge of the viewscreen blinked. 

“This is my first holo-recording for you. I’m, I’m your _Gran’ma Raffi.”_ She gave a small wave and felt ridiculous.

“I thought I’d send you some holo-recordings in case-”

 _In case your Dad ever lets you see them,_ she thought with a deep ache in her chest.

“In case you wanted to er,” she rubbed the back of her neck, her brain clutching at sentiment before restarting her thought.

“So you know that I’m thinking of you. Today my friend Elnor sang us a lullaby. He wrote the sweetest tune for it and I thought maybe I could sing it to you.”

“I know that you don’t know me, sweetheart, but the first- '' her voice broke a little. The pet names felt like a betrayal when she didn’t even know what her own granddaughter was really called. Raffi forced a smile even though it felt as if her heart was breaking. She tucked a strand of hair shyly behind her ear.

“The _only_ thing you need to know is that I love you very, _very_ much.”

She looked up at the viewscreen with as much sincerity as she could muster.

With as much love as she could bear.

“And I always, _always_ will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s a long chapter without long notes?
> 
> This week Arelithil’s [Mess Hall deep dive](https://bit.ly/2DvAmjX) put all those cups to break in my mind!
> 
> Found family holodeck cuddle time is a lovely happy place to go to. If you’re interested in The Ambience™️ here’s a collection of videos that when played together give you a taste of Elnor’s soft music during an Ion Storm aboard La Sirena, tucked in the cuddle pile with Raffi by the fire, with a patchwork blanket and rain at the Chateau window. The rain is a little loud so I usually tweak that first :)  
> [Background Warp Core.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpvznAiKblU&t=23626s)  
> [Rain Storm outside the Chateau.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ekXFslHOvZ8)  
> [Crackling Fireplace.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgHKb_7884o)  
> [Guqin Music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0AAFhx3RmA) or ‘Romulan zither’ in this story. With apologies to ‘Ashes of Love’ who’s theme I stole as Elnor’s song for Hugh. I figured since Vulcans have a strong history of plucked string instruments then Romulans might too and the Guqin has such a beautiful sound.
> 
> Elnor mentions [The Flowing Water](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lReQHyOYgU) which is a Guqin piece and the longest song on [Voyager's Golden Record.](https://voyager.jpl.nasa.gov/golden-record/) Did the Romulans get it from Nasa? Who knows, but it’s beautiful.
> 
> Thanks to [Spinifex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinifex/pseuds/Spinifex) for continuing the Blues Brothers vibes with the song suggestion of [Minnie The Moocher.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZ5gCGJorKk) for Tom and B’Elanna <3
> 
> [Tom’s Camaro,](https://bit.ly/3k0AJ74) give the man his happy ending and his _pounding woofers!_
> 
> [Tom’s amazing shirt,](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Big_Daddy-O_Surf_Special?file=Big_Daddy-O_Surf_Special.jpg) though I was imagining B’Elanna showing Elnor one with more flamingos!
> 
> Translation is from the ever dubious Google Translate. If you’re a native Spanish speaker and I’ve goofed - let me know and I’m happy to tweak :)  
>  _Phasers al máximo!_ / Phasers to maximum
> 
> Romulan from [this Rihannsu Dictionary.](http://web.archive.org/web/20060927153852/http://atrek.org/Dhivael/rihan/engtorihan.html#C)  
>  _sei_ / three  
>  _nnea_ / of  
>  _rhi_ / five 
> 
> This chapter became home to a couple of previous [Downtime](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613715/chapters/56667976) drabble ideas that refused to go away until they were written as more.  
> [Home Comforts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613715/chapters/59606365) \- Cosy holodeck time.  
> [Lullaby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613715/chapters/58247704) \- Raffi records Elnor’s nursery rhyme.
> 
> Interconnected Borg thoughts as a calming tool brought to you by the amazing [Memento Mori.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24739990) No one writes xBs _quite_ like Melospiza_melodia.
> 
> [Kickboxing Raffi](https://stardustcityhag.tumblr.com/post/618402435565797376/i-always-imagined-raffi-and-seven-kickboxing-in) inspired by this fab fanart by stardustcityhag. 
> 
> Nod to [VoluptuousPanic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoluptuousPanic/pseuds/VoluptuousPanic) for Elnor munching an apple while he talks alla Rusty in Oceans 11. _Elnor be eating!_
> 
> I don’t know if Tom can play guitar but it seems plausible for someone so into late 20th century culture. I like [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKnQliXfQlQ) as the version for Tom singing _Stand By Me._  
>  And [this video](https://youtu.be/BRnZ-5FLVvY) for Elnor’s zither version. It's performed on a Guzheng rather than a Guqin but the idea is there.
> 
> [Seven catches the bouquet!](https://youtu.be/rkAt_xUMq24)
> 
> Tip of the hat to [Troodster1972](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610647) for Seven starting and restarting a letter which put Raffi's emoji dithering idea in my head.
> 
> Thimblerig's wonderful fic [Poor Tom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24446980) was a big influence and gives me ALL the Tom&Seven feels <3
> 
> Long notes making me _very sentimental_ about this lovely fandom, sharing ideas and stories together, y’all are lovely :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! New chapters posted on Sundays <3


	15. A Second Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, just when I thought the days of long chapters were over - _this happened._ My heartfelt appreciation to the very patient three person Beta team who put up with me writing 10,000+ words at truly peculiar hours.
> 
> Thanks to Beta reader Spinifex, who would fix the fic, she really _would,_ but well, it's going to take a while to order the parts in, and this is an old model, _sooooo…._
> 
> Thanks to second Beta reader Annamelia, proof that a friend will help you move, a great friend will help you move a body and a truly outstanding one will help you move your apostrophes.
> 
> Finally thanks to long suffering Beta reader Lintila, who is like the Duolingo Owl but scarier and won’t stop asking me why I missed the capital letters out again.
> 
> (CW: Some blood mentions and although we don’t directly see the goings on in Seven Domes there are still hints of the kind of cannon typical violence that is happening, which could be distressing especially since a child xB is involved. Minor character deaths. A description of broken bones. A description of the aftermath of a roadside bomb in a civilian area. Brief discussion of alcoholism. A heads up if you need one x)

The sudden clatter of metal tools against concrete from the next room nearly broke Icheb’s concentration. He screwed his eyelids tighter together and concentrated on keeping the neural link stable, his mind reaching out to the other xBs.

Icheb wasn’t sure how long they’d been in the facility now. Whatever sedative was still flowing through his system seemed to distort his perception. The only thing that showed the passage of time in the cramped space was the foetid puddle that waxed and waned under the door from the adjacent room. He tried again to concentrate, nostrils burning from the sharp smell of ammonia that filled the empty, windowless cell. 

The Tellarite has been taken first. He hadn’t lasted long. The will to live was drained from him by the death of his mate. But, while the rest of them had listened to the Tellarite’s screams, Icheb had realised he could take away some of the other xB’s pain. He could reach his mind out and dull the sensation, casting a veil of numbness over whatever was pulling those screams from the other man’s body. He couldn’t save them, not with his own Borg implants dragged down under the unrelenting magfield that filled the space.

If he couldn’t rescue them, then at least he could offer them reprieve.

Icheb sat alone in the holding cell and focused his mind on dulling the physical sensations of the other two xB’s. _They were close,_ he thought, _maybe in the next room._ He let his mind drift back to Voyager.

In the quiet mess hall Icheb placed his tile on the hexagonal game board and leaned back comfortably in his chair. The room was empty except for the three xBs gathered around the small table. Icheb took a bowl of jellybeans and offered them to the old woman; she shook her head. He offered them instead to the little girl, who took the bowl with a grin and started happily fishing out all the orange ones, laying them out next to her game pieces on the table. Each little smooth jelly bean clicked against the table top with a quiet tap. Icheb could hear tools being laid out in the real world, the noises they made against the gurney were not so gentle.

The old woman smiled fondly and fiddled with a Kadis-kot piece, considering her move. 

“Come _on!”_ The little girl whined, excited for her turn. “You take too long.”

“Patience, little tubba beast!” The old Bajoran’s eye wrinkled kindly. “You need more patience.”

She leaned stiffly back in her chair, old bones protesting. “You know when I was young, on Bajor during the Occupation, I-“ She grimaced and clutched at her side, her words cut off by a sudden jolt of pain. Icheb felt it too, radiating back through their link. He tried to suppress it and felt the woman's gratitude meet his effort.

“What’s an occupation?” The girl asked, reaching to take a sip of her juice. She was thankfully oblivious as the old woman looked at the blood stain on her wrinkled palm, sliding her hand away in the folds of her long shawl when the girl looked up.

“I think it’s getting close to the end of the game for me now.” She caught Icheb’s eye, her gaze sombre. Icheb could feel it too, the harvesters had taken too much.

“But I thank you for the ‘waiting room’, young man.” The old woman gestured at the dream of the mess hall around them, her smile washed with sadness before she reached her clean hand out to grip Icheb by the ear lobe. “The Prophets blessed me with meeting you, I only wish it had been under different circumstances.” She moved her hand to gently cup his cheek. “I hope you see your mother again.”

“Me too.” Icheb nodded before adding, “good luck.”

“You’re not losing _yet!”_ The little girl chirped happily. “See?” She placed her Kadis-kot tile on the board with a click. “You can put your tile here and-“

There was a gentle clatter as the old woman’s playing piece fell to the mess table, its owner vanished. The girl turned to Icheb with alarm.

“Where’d she go?” 

“She had to go away for a little while.” Icheb picked up a tile and tried to keep his voice steady. “Just focus on the game, okay?” He clicked his green game piece into place and turned to offer a reassuring smile. Icheb could feel his heart ache as he watched the little girl's nose start to bleed.

Somewhere in the distance, in the real world, he heard a power tool splutter to life.

The girl looked suddenly shocked, “I can only see out of one eye?” she gasped, “What’s happening?”

Icheb did his best to keep a straight face though he could feel a lump rising in his throat. “That’s okay, your eye just got... _tired_ and er, needed a rest.” 

Somewhere Icheb heard the high pitched moan of a drill whirring up to speed before screaming dully into flesh.

“Can I pick you up?” Icheb asked softly.

The little girl nodded, lifting her arms up to be carried. The science officer stood from the mess table and lifted the little girl into his arms.

“Do you like stars?” He asked kindly, settling her on his hip.

“Uh-huh.” she nodded.

“Okay then, we’re going to go look at some stars.” Icheb said kindly and carried her out of the mess hall. He walked through the dream of the familiar corridors of his old home. It was empty of crewmen now. It took all his energy to keep the link stable and to quiet the other xB’s pain. He could sense it distantly, somewhere deep inside their neural connection. The sickening feeling of loosening flesh. The probing path of a blade through sinew. The wet tearing of young skin, like tissue paper.

There was a hiss and Icheb couldn’t be sure if it was a pneumatic clamp, or the door to astrometrics opening. He supposed it didn’t matter.

The familiar curved half-dome of astrometrics stretched above them as they entered the lab. Icheb walked carefully up the stairs to the raised platform before the screen and knelt down on the dais.

“Where are you from?” He said to the little girl, sitting her down on the floor.

“Vega colony.” She said, looking around at the pretty readouts in clean, bright colours.

Icheb scanned over star charts in his mind. He’d seen Vega before. He imagined it as clearly as he could and allowed the starfield to ripple out across the astrometrics screen. Glittering points of light stretched above the two of them as they sat on the floor. Icheb looked down at his young companion’s face. She didn’t notice his attention and instead watched an asteroid wink past across the domed screen above them. She smiled. 

Icheb tried not to notice the sound of tools jostling in a metal container from the room next door. He grimaced at the wet slap of something landing in a tray.

The imagined starlight reflected off a single red tear running down her face. She held up a hand to wipe it away before rubbing both palms against her face.

“I can’t see.” She said, her voice cracking with panic. “Why can’t I see?”

Icheb felt faint. It didn’t take much imagination to think what must be happening.

“It’s okay.” Icheb lied and put a hand on her shoulder. He startled a little when the girl scrambled blindly into his cross-legged lap.

“You’re just going to go to sleep now, that’s all.” He said, his voice steadier than his nerves. He paused a second before putting a gentle hand on her head. “Can you still hear me?”

“Uh-huh.” She mumbled, curling up into a ball in his lap and sucking her thumb.

“Then that’s OK then,” he said, “you just relax and listen to my voice, ok?”

“Icheb?” The little girl rubbed a hand against her eye, “I don’t feel so good...” The waver in her voice made Icheb feel sick.

“Will it be better in the morning?” She mumbled, words rounded by tiredness and her little thumb.

“Yes.” Icheb nodded. “When you wake up you’ll feel much better.”

Icheb’s back was to the consoles, but he could imagine Seven standing there, working away. It all seemed like another lifetime, like another world. A _better_ one.

He imagined Seven’s straight shoulders, her stern and loving expression.

He imagined the look of pride on her face.

He imagined her arm around his shoulders.

He wished he’d been more open with her.

He wished he’d said how much he-

“Do you know any songs?” The girl asked, she shivered in his lap. The dream wasn’t cold. He suspected the vivisection lab might be.

Icheb sighed sadly and unzipped his uniform jacket. He shrugged the imagined, freshly pressed, science officers uniform off his back and lay it over her like a blanket. Her face was just visible over the bright teal shoulders of the cloth.

“Singing is not a skill of mine.” He said, but he couldn’t exactly refuse what might be the child's last request. “There’s one Seven taught us,” Icheb smiled sadly, “it’s called ‘You Are My Sunshine’.”

Icheb sang softly as the girl settled her head against his knee.

“You sound like papa.” She mumbled, her little hands bunched up in loose fists of Starfleet uniform fabric against her face. Her breathing grew steadier as she slipped into sleep. As Icheb began the second verse the uniform jacket relaxed into the hollow between his legs as the little girl vanished. The neural link had finally been broken.

Icheb knew that it was only him left in the holding room now and that there’d be no one left to make a dream for him to go to sleep inside. He pulled his jacket back on, leaving it unzipped as he leaned back on his hands. He could feel the gritty, wet concrete push itself into his palms from the real world. 

Icheb blinked and took one last look at the starfield above him, before allowing the quiet calm of astrometrics to fade back into the dark, windowless holding cell. The stagnant puddle under the door was deeper now, stretching further into the cell. Without light it was impossible to see the colour, but Icheb could taste the iron in the air.

He hoped Seven would get there soon.

* * *

Seven wished she’d got there sooner. The thought felt like a sharp pain in her chest, indistinguishable from the clawing stitch in her side as she ran for her ship. Whatever suppression field they had in that building was still making her nanoprobes feel shaky and sluggish. She wasn’t used to feeling out of breath. She wasn’t used to feeling weak.

“She went that way" A deep voice rang out in the trees behind her. Her view was blocked by the dense foliage, the sunset staining the forest a violent red.

She hadn’t even been able to lift his body. Hadn’t been able to-

Seven tried to dismiss the thought and focus on escape, but her mind was faster than her feet.

 _What would it have taken?_ Her thoughts raced as she ducked under phaser fire. _What would it have taken to get there in time?_ If she’d pushed the Corsair harder? If she’d left sooner? If she’d listened to Marla? If she hadn’t let Jay-

 _“Fuck!”_ She hissed, ducking forward, as a phaser blast scorched a line across the back of her neck. _That was_ _way_ _too close._

She shot a glance over her shoulder and turned to fire. The phaser rifle fizzed uselessly.

The Ranger ducked behind a rock and checked the charge pack. It was empty. She shouldn’t have been so reckless with her shots inside the facility but-

The thought of Icheb’s broken body flashed again across her mind.

_His voice._

_His_ _eye._

A dark stain pulled her gaze to her sweater, the wool tight with drying blood, where she’d pressed Icheb’s face against her shoulder.

Her stomach turned. 

_The things they’d done to him._

_What they’d made her do to him._

The footsteps crunched closer through the underbrush.

A man's leg appeared next to Seven’s hiding place. The xB hooked the dead phaser rifle against the merc’s knee and with a swift kick snapped his leg backwards at the joint. There was wail as the man’s leg collapsed uselessly under him. Seven grabbed the knife from his belt as he fell and buried it in its owner’s neck, quieting his wail to a helpless wet gurgle.

 _Just mercenaries_. She thought as she ripped the phaser from the man’s dying hand and made a dash for the beach and her ship. The setting sun threw her sharp shadow like a knife behind her.

 _Just mercenaries_ . She grimaced. _They weren’t Jay. God, she wished they were._

She scrambled through the thinning trees near the shoreline.

 _What now?_ She thought, her chest heaving. Lactic acid burned her muscles as she ran.

She needed to call someone.

The pebbled beach crunched under her feet as she bolted toward the corsair. Its sleek outline cut a clean silhouette against the burning sky.

She should call someone. But who?

Seven dragged a hand across her face and hit the door control with a metal fist.

“Man down!” She heard from the tree line as she ducked into the cool of the ship.

The consoles lit up as Seven threw herself into the pilot’s seat and hastily prepared the ship for launch.

There was a flash as a message began to play over the comms. It was a communication from another Ranger cell. They’d put Bjayzl at the top of their most wanted list. She flicked the message closed and winced at the familiar names still at the top of her call log.

 _There’s no one left._ Seven’s stomach turned. _Marla, Korok, Icheb-_

_She was alone._

A phaser blast thudded off the shields as the ship’s thrusters groaned to life.

_She’d failed the Rangers._

The shoreline and the hunched domes of the facility fell away from the window as the ship climbed.

_She’d failed Icheb._

She scrubbed a hand through her sweat-soaked hair.

_She was alone._

As the corsair broke the atmosphere Seven pointed the ship toward Fenris.

_She was alone. She deserved to be._

* * *

Seven sat in front of the projected viewscreen clenching and unclenching her hand nervously. “Tom?” 

Tom groaned and pushed himself up. His eyes were heavy with tiredness and his hair stuck up on one side. He blinked, confused for a moment before an enthusiastic smile spread slowly across his face.

“Annika?” Tom said with a lopsided grin as he scrubbed a hand across his brow, “That you?”

“Affirmative.” The clipped Borg-like reply felt comfortable in front of her old friend, it felt safe. She couldn't help but smile, Tom's rising joy was infectious. ”However it’s just ‘Seven’ now.”

“Seven, yeah, _sorry!_ Old habits, eh?” Tom laughed self consciously, “Musiker said, and here’s me having spent a _decade_ correcting people! Y’know I made ‘em change the plaque on the astrometrics award to say ‘Annika Hansen’. Naomi’s gonna kill me...” He rubbed his face distractedly, still waking up, before looking back at Seven like she was a dream that might disappear.

“Anyway, what the hell are you talking about? _Just Seven?”_ Tom scoffed. “I think you and I both know, you were never _just_ anything.”

Seven smiled, unsure of how to respond. A feeling of belonging that she hadn’t felt in years blossomed in her chest.

“You look great Seven. _God_ it’s good to see you.” He continued. “Tell your friend Musiker I owe her big time”

“ _Girlfriend_.” Seven corrected, enjoying watching Tom’s grin widen.

“Oh _that’s_ how it is, huh?” He beamed. _“I knew it!_ I _thought_ I liked how she talked about you. She’s a _big_ improvement on the last one. She laughs at my jokes and everything.”

Seven raised an eyebrow. “She’s an intelligence expert, Tom, so it’s possible she was laughing at you to secure additional information.”

“On what exactly?” Tom teased. “Information about my joke?”

“No.”

“Wanna hear it?”

“Also, _unsurprisingly,_ no.” She tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. The years apart seemed to fall away. The companionable back and forth felt comfortable. Like stepping into an old pair of shoes. 

“What does a Romulan frog use for camouflage?” Tom gestured to Seven for an answer.

The xB sighed deeply and took the bait. “Depending on the species and the habitat and assuming, _of course,_ that the amphibian in question is not poisonous, then a Romulan frog would most likely use its natural coloration as camouflage. But Tom, if you’re about to say ‘a croaking-”

“A CROAKING DEVICE!” He interrupted, laughing at his own joke.

Seven stared deadpan into the view screen.

 _“-Raffi_ laughed.” Tom huffed playfully and Seven couldn’t help smiling at the thought.

“I like her.” Tom folded his arms and leaned closer to the view screen. “And hey, happiness looks good on you.” 

He looked down as if pulling up courage. “I’m glad you’re doing good, Seven. I worried that-,” He fumbled for words. “I don’t know, I was worried that you were all alone and-”

“Star date 51285.3,” Seven interrupted. “Voyager, Deck Nine, Section Fourteen, you said if there was any way you could help me adjust to my life on Voyager, that I should ask you.” Seven cocked her head considering her words. “Admittedly it has been some time, but I hope that the offer still stands?”

Seven met her friend's careful gaze. “Living without my Voyager collective has been…painful, Tom, I-” She lifted her chin, “I want to be part of a family again.”

Seven’s shoulders heaved with a deep breath that failed to lift the anxiety. “That is if you’ll have me.”

Tom shook his head. 

“Hold up, let me grab something real quick.” He pushed himself from his seat and darted out of view of a moment before sliding back into the chair holding a picture frame. He held it up to the viewscreen.

“That’s my new grandson,” Tom smiled proudly, “Harry, after Miral’s favourite uncle.”

Seven looked at the image of a cute, chubby baby dribbling enthusiastically across his ‘ _Buster Kincaid’_ T-shirt, foot held to his mouth. The baby was chewing at a tiny, iridescent, metallic cloth shoe. 

“Anything look familiar?” Tom asked, knowingly.

Seven had total recall. Tom knew that. He just wanted her to say it.

“The shoes I replicated for you and B’Elanna when I missed your baby shower.” Seven said quietly. Not quite believing Tom had kept them.

“Got it in one!” The pilot put down the photo frame. “That’s the _second_ generation of Paris’s now with feet protected to minus 40 degrees Celsius.” He chuckled, still looking at the photo. “Those things are _tough,_ too! You got any idea how hard even a _part_ -Klingon bites while they teethe?”

“Anyway,” Tom looked back to Seven, his expression as warm as his voice, “you’ve been part of this family for _years,_ whether you've known it or not.” 

“I _missed you_ Seven. We all did. We all _do.”_ His voice cracked a little and he coughed to cover it up. “Harry’s husband _still_ won’t stop talking about when you researched the Omega Molecule.”

“I thought Harry married one of the Delaney sisters?” Seven asked.

“He did! _Sorta?”_ Tom shrugged. “Turns out they’re actually the Delaney _siblings._ He and James are renewing their vows next year.” He explained cheerfully. “I get to be the best man again too, which honestly? What a relief! I thought I might get demoted to groomsman after last time.”

Tom scratched the back of his head. “I’ll admit I didn’t do the greatest job on the best man’s speech the first time round, so this time I’m going _all out._ It’s not often you get a second chance and the first toast, this time I'm _ready_!”

“No,” Seven said softly, “not often you get a second chance.”

Tom let the warm silence hang for a moment before continuing. 

“So, sure, I’ll get you back in touch with everyone, Seven, but don’t confuse that with you ‘being part of a family again’. That’s impossible. You never left.”

“And hell, stop selling yourself short, you’ve already made _quite_ the impression on that freighter by the look of things!” Tom leaned back in his chair and beamed. “That Romulan kid thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread. And the Captain? Seems a bit starstruck, if you ask me, kept calling you _‘our Ranger’._ It was kinda sweet, honestly.”

Tom grinned slyly. “And that’s not even _mentioning_ Musiker.’

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, Seven, you’re not naive and I _know_ you’re not oblivious.” Tom chuckled. “She's obviously crazy about you!”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Seven muttered.

“Seems like you didn’t do too badly for yourself out there. So,” Tom tucked his chair closer to the viewscreen and settled in, “tell me what’s new.”

The two of them shared stories of the years they’d missed. Seven listened as the lull of Tom's conversation washed over her, making her think of people and places she hadn’t thought about in years.

Seven tried and failed to stifle a tired yawn. 

“That’s new! I’ve never seen you yawn before, Seven.” Tom nodded. “Go, regenerate, we’ll finish up another time.”

“I’d rather stay on the line I-”

Tom caught the momentary flash of uncertainty that darted across Seven’s eyes. “Don’t worry, Seven. I’ve just got you back, you’re not getting rid of me _that_ easily.” Tom stretched and nearly knocked over his collection of coffee cups.

“Shit!” He fumbled with the cups, pushing them further on to the desk and wiping a coffee-wet hand on his oil stained overalls. “I gotta get some sleep too, honestly.”

Seven nodded and smiled.

“It’s been great talking to you, Seven, and give my best to Raffi!”

“I will.” The xB nodded.

“And next time I get the how-you-met story, okay?”

“When she beamed me off my disintegrating ship.” Seven smiled wryly. 

“Ha! Sounds like something outta holo-novel, I can’t wait!” He laughed before sighing in contentment, looking reflective. “Ah, shit, this was easier when I was just recording.” He scratched the back of his neck, “Seven I, er, _fuck-”_

“I assume so, Tom. You _do_ have offspring.”

“Maybe I only _thought_ I missed your sense of humour, huh?” He teased. “No, it’s just harder to say face to face, right?” Tom cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re back and, er, I love you, okay.” His ears flushed red endearingly. “Night, Seven.” He smiled.

“Goodnight, Tom.” She nodded, bringing her hand up to the holo-control. “And,” she paused trying the words out in her mind. They felt right. “Love you too.”

Seven took in the gentle look in his eyes, returned the warmth with a slight smile and ended the call. She sat in the calm quiet a moment and committed the feeling to memory. She closed the projected screen and picked up the freshly replicated palm-holo. The xB kicked off her boots and climbed onto the bed. She clicked the device on and scrolled to the oldest entry. Settling down comfortably, Seven began to read.

It was late when Raffi knocked at the door. There was no answer. The OPS officer leaned in closer to speak into the console when the door hissed open, the privacy setting left unlocked.

“Seven?” Raffi said, leaning in cautiously. The room’s lights were still on full, but the Ranger was snoring gently.

Raffi walked over to the bed. Seven was curled on her side, fast asleep, one hand still holding the palm-holo. The little screen lay open, it's slowly scrolling projection moving over the rumpled pillow by the Ranger’s head. The gentle green light cast a soft glow on Seven’s sleeping smile.

 _She looked tired,_ Raffi thought. _Happy though._ And in some way, more relaxed than Raffi had ever seen her before. A burden lifted maybe?

Raffi carefully took the device from Seven’s hand and clicked it off, placing it on the nightstand. She took the blanket from the foot of the bed and laid it softly over Seven’s sleeping frame. Raffi let her hand linger on the xB’s shoulder for a moment as she took in the sight of Seven’s peaceful expression. 

“At least one of us gets their family back.” Raffi said softly, tenderly brushing a strand of blonde hair behind Seven’s ear. “You deserve it, honey.” 

Raffi pressed a gentle kiss to the other woman’s brow, metal and skin warm against her lips. She stood, gingerly trying not to wake the sleeping Ranger, and tiptoed to the door. 

_If anyone deserves some happiness,_ Raffi thought taking a last look at Seven’s sleeping face. _It’s her._

“Computer, dim lights.”

* * *

“Computer, dim lights.” Raffi’s gentle command drifted in the quiet open body of the ship. Down in the mess hall Hugh put down his PADD and stretched his aching back. Hugh Two joined in the stretching to be companionable, before leaping off the table and onto Elnor’s lap.

“I’m exhausted.” Hugh sighed, pushing himself up from the bench. “Time to turn in, I think.”

Emil faded into view by the door to the sick bay, hands in pockets and smiling.

“I’ve got some excellent news for you, Hugh.” Emil said, his eyes briefly flashing blue as he reviewed some data. “Except for the fatigue you’re in good health. I see no reason for you to spend the night in sickbay.”

Hugh was about to reply when a drawling American accent cut over the top of him.

“-why wasn't I alerted to this sooner?” Steward shimmered into place by the stairs, a tactical decision to give him some solid ‘striding while frustrated’ time. He did so. Opening his folio and swiping through files as he walked. “Housing guests is _precisely_ my remit and you neglected to inform me!”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality I’m afraid.” Emil replied unflustered as the EHH stepped into his personal space.

Steward sighed. “You just said he was no longer your patient!”

“The fact that he is no longer my patient is part of doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“There’s no winning with you!” Steward snapped his folio closed for emphasis. “You can start watering your own plants!”

The EHH turned from ‘enraged colleague’ to ‘customer service’ voice on a dime and bowed a little to the xB. 

“I’m _so_ sorry Mr. Director, we’re at full capacity berth wise.” He shot a scowl over at the EMH. “Had I known earlier I would have _done something_ about it.”

Emil pushed his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

“If you are happy to stay in sick bay for tonight I can reshuffle in the morning. Or perhaps we can use the holodeck or-”

“He can have my room!” Elnor said brightly with no hesitation.

“No, Elnor.” Hugh raised his hands. “That’s honestly not necessary, I-”

“I slept on mats in the House of Truth. A bed is an extravagance really-”

“Elnor,” Hugh toes curled in embarrassment at the offer. “I’m sure the good Doctor wouldn’t mind if I stayed in sickbay just for now and then-”

“A mat I _can_ make space for…” Steward mused aloud.

“Now you’re just trying to get off the hook.” Emil said smugly, peering over the EHH’s shoulder and feeling in good spirits now his prize patient was faring so well.

Steward aggressively pretended not to hear, and smiled instead at Elnor. “If you’d like to clear your things I’ll-”

“I will clear my things!” Elnor grinned and set off up the stairs without delay. 

Hugh nodded in thanks at the holos and trailed, a little bewildered, after the Romulan.

 _“Very accommodating_ young man, that Elnor.” Emil brushed an imagined speck of lint off Steward's shoulder. “You could really stand to learn a few things about hospitality from him.”

The EMH deactivated himself with a laugh before the folio could hit him.

By the time Hugh arrived at the open door to Elnor’s quarters the younger man had already gathered most of his meager possessions onto the desk. Hugh leant against the bulkhead and let his eyes wander over what the Romulan had brought with him. A spare set of immaculately folded blue robes provided a cushion for the sheathed tan qalanq. The sword’s whetstone sat beside it in a leather sleeve along with a red notebook and a wrapped linen bundle of what Hugh guessed were drawing supplies.

“Come in!” Elnor called from where he knelt by the tiny coffee table. He picked up what looked like a hand poured candle, part burned, into which sprigs of some red brush plant had been set, and added it to the pile along with a finely carved wooden comb. Elnor looked satisfied with the collection before casting a final glance around the tiny room.

“Ooh! And can’t forget this!” Elnor plucked a white bobblehead cat from the nightstand and placed it with the rest of his things. He gently bopped it’s head and sent it wobbling.

“This is _not_ a cat.” Elnor said earnestly, before pointing out the little blue dress the bobble head was wearing. “Cats do _not_ wear clothes.”

Elnor watched the erratic wobbling slow before he steadied its head with the flat of his palm. 

“But, Soji replicated it for me and because of that I like it.” He smiled with the unguarded joy that made Hugh’s heart ache. “It’s _good_ to have friends here.” 

Hugh looked at the candle. “May I?” He said, reaching for it.

Elnor nodded and the xB picked up the pillar candle. The tallow felt silky against his palm, a strong herbal scent lingering on his synthetic skin.

“I am to light it and think of what I am grateful for.” Elnor explained and held out a hand. “I can show you?”

Hugh passed back the candle. “Slim pickings recently, I should think.”

“Why do you say that?” Elnor moved to sit on the floor, gesturing for Hugh to do the same.

“Near apocalypse,” Hugh sat and began counting on his fingers, “near death by ion storm, various near misses on the Artifact.”

Elnor solemnly considered Hugh’s tongue-in-cheek list thoughtfully as placed the candle carefully on the metal plating of the floor. 

“Well I did not _die_ in any of the events you listed, Hugh, so I am grateful for that.”

“Computer, lights to 50 percent.” The Romulan lit the candle with a familiar looking lighter. The _‘C.R’_ monogram was clear against the dark steel barrel as the warm light of the flame played off Elnor’s dark hair.

“Captain Rios said he wanted to thank me for giving up my wine.” Elnor explained, following the xB’s gaze. “He said I can pretend the _‘C.R’_ stands for _‘Courteous Romulan’._ I didn’t need a _gift_ for destroying the bottle, it was the right thing to do for Raffi. But I suspect the Captain felt guilty for asking.” Elnor grinned and stashed it back in the folds of his robe. “I’m happy to keep it if it makes him feel better.”

The Romulan ran a finger in a half-moon curve through the shallow pool of wax around the wick, the soft tallow already beginning to melt under the gentle warmth of the steady flame. With the melted oil on his fingertip Elnor began to draw a complicated path around the base of the candle. The heavily perfumed wax gliding against the dull duratanium. Some of the patterns Hugh recognised as Old Romulan, most of it was alien to him. It was a pleasant feeling, _not knowing._ He supposed it meant the collective had never assimilated a Qowat Milat before. He smiled contentedly and watched Elnor work.

“So,” Elnor began pointing to the faint tallow markings on the floor. “I’m grateful that Picard returned from the dead,” He traced his finger further along the freshly drawn path. “That Seven was reunited with her friend. That Raffi gave me a cat. That I have more friends in one place than I’ve ever had before.” He reached the last marking, Hugh recognised the two familiar Romulan numbers. “And I’m grateful for _you,_ Hugh.”

Hugh’s breath escaped as a sigh. Even after weeks it still came as a shock to hear someone like _Elnor_ show interest in someone like _him._ He turned from the gentle candle light to see the Romulan already watching him with a steady gaze.

Elnor drew up a hand to the xB’s face, hovering it over the vestiges of implants along the xB’s brow. “May I touch you here?”

Hugh smiled softly, “Elnor, you know, you don’t have to ask _every_ time.”

“I suspect these things were done to your body against your will.” Elnor’s eyes fell to the tritanium that rippled through the skin along the other man’s jawline. “And, if it makes you comfortable and causes me no harm, then why would I not ask?”

Hugh supposed he didn’t have an answer to that one and instead nodded and closed his eyes as Elnor’s thumb grazed gently along his cheekbone.

Hugh pressed the Romulan’s hand against his cheek, Elnor’s perfect skin smooth under his touch. They’d never had this kind of privacy in sickbay and, in the soft light, he felt braver than usual. He turned his head to kiss Elnor’s callused palm; his hand smelled of tallow and the strong herbal scent of the candle.

“I’m not sure what you see in me though.” Hugh mumbled, the Romulan’s candour rubbing off on him.

“We are very similar, Hugh.” Elnor said simply.

Hugh laughed, a little more coldly than he meant to. 

“Sorry,” Hugh shook his head, “it’s just, well.” He gestured vaguely to Elnor in general.

Elnor nodded. 

“Physically different, yes. But all my life I have been treated as an outsider.” He looked thoughtful. “I am not treated as a true Romulan because of the traditions of my order. I _am_ treated as Qowat Milat. Though I can never fully _be_ one.” 

Elnor dropped his hand from the other man’s cheek and pulled his knees up against his chest. 

“I was given two half identities instead of a whole one. So I belong nowhere.”

“With Picard?” Hugh chanced.

“You know as well as I that Picard casts a cold shadow that no one can stand in for very long.” Elnor’s sharp brows furrowed as he watched the flame jump, the edge of a red leaf emerging from the melting wax.

“Then I met you. And you were like me,” Elnor’s gaze softened as he turned to Hugh, “made of halves.”

Hugh swallowed as Elnor shuffled closer and desperately tried not to whimper as the Romulan’s hand eased around the nape of his neck and into his greying hair.

Hugh felt Elnor’s words as a whisper against his neck. “Only, with a grace of soul Zani told me of and I never understood.” The Romulan’s lips warm against his jaw.

“Elnor, I’ve not...” Hugh trailed off. “All of this is new to me.”

“To me as well.” Elnor nodded, honestly. “And none of this I know how to do.” He continued, taking the xB’s right hand in his and kissing each softly folded knuckle. “Though I think, perhaps, that doesn’t matter.”

Hugh forlornly wished he could feel Elnor’s lips against his skin. The numbness in his hand was even worse than yesterday and Elnor’s tender gesture felt like a distant pressure and little else.

“That’s not my hand” Hugh sighed, “not _really.”_

The xB flexed the fingers of his right hand. Tired synthetic skin dragged over his tritanium bones. Hugh’s eyes dropped to his wrist, the patchwork join between organic and synthetic skin was obvious as it zigzagged under the dark sleeve of his shirt and out of sight.

“I don’t understand.” Elnor’s brow furrowed as he followed the older man’s gaze.

“As a drone my hand was removed to make room for a tool that would allow for more efficient assimilation.” Hugh curled his hand into a loose fist and rested it on his knee.

“Doctor Crusher replaced it with something that looks more human but-” the xB clenched his fist. His knuckles squeaked faintly in protest as they always did when it was time for a new set. His metal joints grinding faintly together. “It’s not really _my_ hand.”

Elnor’s eyes wandered over the map of Hugh’s skin. “On Vashti, near the House of Truth there is a Urukan tree.”

Hugh looked confused at the sudden change of topic.

“The story is relevant to your sentiment.” Elnor explained. “Shortly after the resettlement there was unrest. People did not want Romulans to settle on Vashti.”

“There was much fighting.” He sighed. “And many deaths.”

Hugh turned to listen.

“One day a gravcar was abandoned in the marketplace.” Elnor reached out and warmed his hand above the candle flame. “It was a hot day and people were eating their midday meals in the shade of the market canopies. Or by the Urukan tree.”

Elnor caught the xB’s eye. “The abandonment was a lie, Hugh. The gravcar contained an incendiary device. Many people died.” He turned away again. “Those that survived did so with terrible injuries.”

“I’m so sorry.” Hugh offered, quietly.

Elnor nodded. “Zani treated the injured. Burned the dead, or what the Sisters could find of them. They walked the marketplace that evening with their robe hems gathered up into satchels. Looking through the dirt for pieces they missed.”

“Pieces of what?” The xB asked.

“Of _people.”_

Hugh quietly sucked air through his teeth, wishing he’d asked a less ridiculous question.

“The Urukan tree was shattered in the blast.” Elnor continued. “And the broken bark held strips of broken flesh.” The Romulan picked at the hem of his sleeve. “Zani said it was like taking the harvest from Ganmadan itself.”

“She worked for months tending the injured.” Elnor watched a line of wax travel down the edge of the candle “The ones who'd lost their legs. Their eyes. Their minds. Caring for the hurt, hurt her in turn, and she cannot see the tree without remembering the root of her pain.” 

Hugh watched the clouds lift from Elnor’s gaze almost as quickly as they’d arrived, a gentle smile curling at the edge of his lips as he thought of happier times. “But, my earliest memory on Vashti is hiding up the Urukan tree from the traders after stealing a ripe lhiet.”

Hugh listened, quietly, reverently, as if at a temple. 

“The trunk was so pitted and I could climb so fast, they never caught me, though they shouted up at me from below. I sat there in the Urukan until nightfall. My chin was sticky from lhiet juice and both my stomach and my heart were full.”

Elnor’s dark eyes slid closed imagining the scene for himself. “I watched the stars until I fell asleep in the branches.”

“You are not a tree, of course.” Elnor finished simply, looking back to the older man.

Hugh laughed, caught off guard. “Not the conclusion I was expecting, but a truthful one I suppose.”

“You _were_ damaged though.” Elnor took Hugh’s synthetic hand in his own again. “And you carry that damage with you, in your skin, though mostly in your heart.”

“That is not a shameful thing.” Elnor carefully laced their fingers together. “Everyone must face their past in their own time. When they are ready.” He squeezed the xB’s hand. “And when their past is ready too.”

“But, Hugh.” Elnor spoke with the confidence of someone whose conviction was unquestionable. “When I tell you that you are beautiful, I am _not_ wrong.”

Hugh could feel the hair on the back on his neck prickle from the intensity of the other man’s gaze as he spoke.

“And your inability to see past your pain and to the truth, does not sway my observation.” Elnor slid his thumb under Hugh’s soft shirt sleeve, looking questioningly to the xB. Hugh paused, reading the calm, steady patience on Elnor's face, he seemed ready to wait forever if Hugh needed him to. Hugh took a breath before nodding slightly in permission.

“I think perhaps when you see yourself,” Elnor said, gently rolling Hugh’s sleeve up his forearm, “you are like Zani with her memories of the bomb and the blood and and the broken tree.”

“To you everything about your body is pain and the memory of the things that went wrong.” Elnor traced a long finger across the fault-line of his scars, between synthetic and organic skin. “Of what might have been had things been different.” Hugh sat, fixated by the sensation of Elnor’s touch moving between dully distant and electrifyingly focused.

Elnor lifted his eyes to meet Hugh’s. “But when I look at you, Hugh, all I see is somewhere safe.” Hugh could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

“I never knew the Urukan tree as it was before, nor did I know you.” Elnor dipped his head to press a meandering line of kisses along the older man’s arm. “But what you see as the damage of something broken, I see as the strength of someone who survived.”

Elnor took the xB’s hand, pressing it through his long hair and to the nape of his neck. “And what you say isn’t ‘real’, was part of some of the realest moments of my life.”

“Elnor, I-”

“You _say_ this is not your hand but that is _not_ what I thought when you reached out for me in the Cube. When I thought you were dying.”

Emboldened by Elnor’s conviction, Hugh allowed himself the pleasure of running his fingers into that impossibly soft hair.

“Hugh, if-,” Elnor’s eyes closed as Hugh brushed dark hair around his tapered ear. Smiling as the xB traced his fingertips cautiously to Elnor’s lips.

“If you were to brush the hair from my eyes in the morning with these fingers,” Elnor pressed a lingering kiss into the other man’s palm, “then my first thought would not be that they are not _your_ hands.”

Hugh swallowed hard as Elnor’s words tickled warmly against his skin as the Romulan continued.

“But instead would be how I could convince you to let them linger a few seconds longer on my skin.”

“I, er,” Hugh was glad of the low light, he could feel heat rising on his cheeks. “I wouldn’t take much convincing.” 

“I know.” Elnor said frankly with a smile.

 _“Oh,”_ Hugh flushed deeper, “I hadn’t thought I was quite _that_ obvious.”

“You are.”

Hugh laughed as Elnor nodded. “It’s that which gives me the confidence to say these things.”

“To touch you how I believe you wish to be touched.” The Romulan brushed Hugh’s face with his knuckles before resting his hand on the xB’s chest. “If you want me to?”

“More than anything.” Hugh breathed, leaning closer. “Elnor, I-”

“I enjoy hearing my name on your tongue.” Elnor’s words whispered across the xB’s lips before Hugh closed the distance with a deeper kiss.

Hugh's eyes slid closed as Elnor’s gentle lips moved like balm against his skin, his cheek, his implants, the soft skin beneath his jaw.

“Don’t close your eyes.” Elnor said softly, pausing in his gentle work.

“Hmm?” Was all Hugh could reply, his mind hazy with unfamiliar but welcome sensations. His eyes meeting Elnor's, breath catching at the open intent in his expression.

“Is it true that an xB can remember everything they see?”

“Eidetic memory.” Hugh said with a single nod, “for a lot of us, yes.”

“For you?” Elnor studied the xB’s expression carefully.

“Yes.” Hugh said.

“Then will you keep your eyes open, Hugh?” Elnor ran his soft lips against the other man’s skin while holding his steady gaze, unflinchingly, with honest eyes.

The candle light picked out the warm edges of Elnor’s smile, “I’d like for you to remember this...”

* * *

“Yes!” Raffi laughed, slapping down her winning hand and shimmying in delight on the bench as she dragged the pile of paper scraps towards her. Cris groaned and took a swig of his synthehol beer, watching some scrawled chores flutter to the floor by his friend’s feet. That was Raffi’s _third_ win of the night, it was starting to get embarrassing. 

Seven glanced at the poker game over the top of her PADD, it had been a week since her first conversation with Tom and she was still catching up on communications she’d missed. She crossed her ankles in Raffi’s lap and smiled as the OPS officer smoothed a hand against her leg. 

“Look at all these things I don’t have to do.” Raffi chuckled, plucking strips of paper from the pile and reading them aloud. “Clear the plasma injectors, de-ionise the impulse manifold, flush the gel packs.”

Raffi raised her eyebrows and looked up at Cris. “Can’t you just get your engineer to do this stuff when we pass Bajor?”

Rios shook his head. “And go to Yani with clogged plasma injectors _and_ bio-neural circuitry with a bacterial infection?” He scoffed. “I don't have a death wish y’know, Raf.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Raffi snorted, “didn’t she tell you to replace that impulse manifold _last_ time you took La Sirena in?”

“Don’t remind me.” Cris grumbled, as Picard gathered the cards back together and began to expertly shuffle the deck.

Raffi grinned wickedly. “What do you think she’ll do to you when I tell her we nearly got _fried_ in an ion storm because _you_ didn’t replace the manifold sooner?”

“Nothing.” Cris shrugged, grinding out his cigar stub into the ashtray. “Because you _won’t_ tell her!”

“Wanna bet?” Raffi waggled her eyebrows. 

Cris groaned into his palms before holding out an expectant hand to Elnor. The young Romulan paused, he had been drawing a sleeping Hugh Two, and turned to a clean page in his sketchbook. He obligingly tore another strip of paper out and handed it to the Captain. Rios licked the end of the pencil and scrawled _“Immunity from Engineer’s rage”_ and tossed it to the center of the table.

“Happy?” Rios glared at Raffi and took the deck from the Admiral’s hands, splitting it for good measure before he dealt out the cards.

“I’ll be happier when I win.” Raffi teased. Seven chuckled from behind her PADD.

“Fourth time’s the charm.” Cris beamed with fake confidence.

“The charm is in the _third time,_ Captain Rios,” Elnor added unhelpfully, “I think perhaps you may be out of charm for today?”

Raffi ignored Cris’ grumblings and glanced at her new hand. She was about to follow Elnor’s guileless input with another quip when she felt a faint buzz from her pocket. She fished out her palm holo and activated it. Her eyes widened and her stomach fell as she read the words.

_“Incoming Subspace call. Sender I.D: G. Hwang.”_

“Ha!” Cris laughed. “So much for your poker face, Raf! Bad hand over there?” 

“Raffi, everything ok?” Seven asked, noting the sudden spike in Raffi’s heart rate with quiet alarm.

“Ms. Musiker there’s a subspace call for you.” The EHH materialised, half-stooping to pick up one of the fallen pieces of paper and placing it primly on the table. “I’ve patched it through to your quarters.”

“Opening bets?” Picard continued, oblivious as Seven sat up and put a hand on Raffi’s arm.

“Do you need to take that?” The xB asked nodding to the still flashing name on the projected screen that had started to shake in Raffi’s unsteady hand.

“Raf?” Rios looked at his friend with mounting concern, “you okay?”

Raffi’s mouth was dry. Her mind was blank.

The name flashed. Raffi blinked. The Subspace I.D was right.

 _It was him._ Raffi thought. _It was Gabe._

Emil took a cautious step out of sickbay, his subroutines noting the surge of adrenaline in the OPS officer’s body. Rios gestured for him to give Raffi space for now.

“Ms. Musiker?” Steward bowed closer, folio clutched to his chest. “What would you like me to do?”

Raffi floundered, her heart racing, a crew’s worth of eyes were trained on her and the shaking projection in her hand.

 _I can’t._ She thought. _I can’t face-_

Her thought was interrupted by metal tipped fingers sliding through her own.

“Come on.” Seven said, leading Raffi to the stairs. The OPS officer followed, grateful to leave the curious crew in her wake as Seven walked her to her room.

“Seven, it’s Gabe,” Raffi said, her voice cracking. “I can’t-”

Seven straightened her shoulders at Raffi’s words, “Answer or don’t, that’s your decision.” The xB squeezed Raffi’s hand. “But don’t make a choice because you think you can’t do something.”

The OPS officer took a slow deep breath and tried to steady her nerves.

Seven placed her hands gently on Raffi’s shoulders and smiled softly. “I’ll be out here if you need me.” She said, ending her sentence with a kiss at the edge of Raffi’s uncertain smile.

With a grateful nod Raffi stepped into her quarters. The projected screen above the desk read _“Call connected. Awaiting Recipient.”_

Raffi slipped into her desk chair, smiling briefly at Seven’s leather jacket that still hung over the back of it. She held her hand over the answer button.

 _Time to face the music._ She thought. _What could Gabe possibly want after that last call?_

She took a deep breath, and clicked _“Begin call.”_

Raffi’s eyes met not her son’s but a young woman’s, as Pel’s image flickered into view.

“Oh!” Raffi said shocked. “Sorry, I was expecting-”

“My husband,” Pel nodded simply, “yes.”

“It’s just after his last call I-” Raffi trailed off, lacing her fingers together to stop her hands from shaking. “I figured I wouldn’t hear from him again.”

Pel’s expression softened. “I’m sorry for my husband's rudeness.” She sighed. “He is hurt. And I think he may be too hurt to realise how much that pain is hurting others.” Pel shook her head sadly before turning back to the view screen. “I did not mean to hurt you as well. My apologies for the deception, I thought you might not answer if you did not recognise my subspace I.D.?”

“Of course I’d answer,” Raffi began, before her stomach twisted in shame “although, I’m sorry,- I don’t actually know your family name?”

“Or I yours, it seems. I _had_ assumed we now shared the name Hwang.” She smiled shyly. “I didn’t realise until you sent your beautiful message-”

Raffi’s heart leapt, knowing Pel had listened to her recording.

“-and I saw your Subspace I.D.” Pel continued. “Forgive me, but am I mistaken in thinking that you are _that_ Rafaella Musiker?”

“Oh god,” Raffi flustered, “what have you heard?”

 _Was it the fist fights on DS12?_ She panicked. _Or when she and Cris had been thrown in jail for a month in the Modean system after a job gone wrong? Was it the drunk and disorderly charges in the Qiris sector? Oh god, which bit of her history_ _was_ _it?_

“Lieutenant Commander Musiker, I-” Pel’s voice wavered, “it is _truly_ an honour.”

“...‘Scuse me?” Raffi said, blindsided. “That was my rank but-”

“I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you.” The young woman’s face lit up. “I met you on Freecloud and I had no idea.”

Raffi’s mind scrambled to keep up as Pel continued.

 _“Lieutenant Commander,_ my father and I,” She paused, her voice shaking, “we were on the _USS_ _Renegade’.”_

Raffi remembered it well. The last ship off Romulus. She’d sold her soul for that one. Pulled in every single favour she had left to stop that final ship from turning around after the evacuation was cancelled. She’d pleaded with the Captain before they pulled her security clearance. _Just one more ship._ She’d begged. _Just a few hundred more souls._

“I was just a child then,” Pel continued, “but I still remember Captain Scott’s words when she told us who to thank. Now it’s honestly breaking tradition slightly, but I asked father and well, he actually _wants_ you to know and,”

Pel smiled shyly.

“Romulan grandparents each choose a name for their grandchild. My father… he chose _Rafaella,_ after the Terran officer who saved his family.”

Raffi blinked, _had… had she heard that right?_

“I, I don’t know what to say.” Raffi’s mind echoed the other woman's words over and over _‘he chose Rafaella’._ Her throat felt tight she tried to swallow.

“Please, you don’t need to say anything.” Pel waved a hand. “Although I find it hard to reconcile Gabriel’s account with what I know of you.”

Raffi’s reverie came to an end as her stomach churned with guilt.

Pel looked conflicted. “Gabriel’s pain is his own, of course, to deal with as he sees fit. And it’s not my place to tell him how he should feel. Though he _says_ that you abandoned his family.”

 _Fuck._ Raffi thought, trying to read the Romulan’s still features as she continued.

“And that you drink too much.”

Raffi looked honestly at the younger woman. “He’s not wrong, Pel I-“

 _“Kheh hiakh'mne_ is an affliction many of our community have suffered since the disaster. People do what they have to, to cope, when they are in pain. When they need that pain to stop. Sometimes that is ale, sometimes a different vice.”

Raffi took a moment amid her conflicting emotions to appreciate that Gabe had found himself someone with a good head on her shoulders. Pel’s words were kind even if her tone was hard to parse.

“Gabe’s right though Pel, I _wasn’t_ there for him and his dad.” Raffi fidgeted her hand against her collar bone. 

“Everyone has a past.” Pel nodded. “Perhaps you weren’t who you might have been, but what matters is now. And surely you of all people deserve a second chance.”

Raffi dared to let a spark of hope begin to burn in her chest as Pel went on “You know better than most Terrans how many we lost. In the face of that grief my daughter will know _all_ of her family that _survived_ the disaster.”

Pel brushed her dark hair behind her ear. “And that includes you, _Lieutenant Commander.”_

“Oh, no, please,” Raffi waved her hands in embarrassment, “just call me _Raffi.”_

Pel looked taken aback. “I’m sorry, but a given name is so informal?” She looked thoughtful. “If I’m not to use your military honorific-“ 

“I was _discharged_ so-“ Raffi mumbled in embarrassment.

“Then,” Pel paused to think. “As Gabriel calls my father _‘di'ranov’,_ forgive my pronunciation, but perhaps may I call you,” Pel paused considering her Standard Terran phonics, _“Mom?”_

Raffi's rising heart felt like it might break against her ribs as she half-laughed, half-choked out a reply.

“Sure honey, of course,” she smiled at her daughter-in-law on the view screen, wiping away happy tears, _“_ oh god, honey, _of course_ you can call me Mom.” 

* * *

Seven sat at the tactical console, chair turned with its back to the planet below and reread Tom’s draft best man’s speech on her palm-holo. The Arachnia joke was pretty good but her eyes kept straying from the words to Raffi’s door at the other end of the ship. The xB deactivated the projected screen with a click. She wanted to give it the attention it deserved and she couldn’t do that right now. Seven spun her chair and glanced at the subspace call logs.

 _The line’s still open,_ she thought. Though she couldn’t make her mind up if that was a good thing or not. Seven rapped her metal fingers against the console glass and hoped Raffi’s call was going well. All she could do was wait. With a sigh she re-opened Tom’s speech. There were a few edits she could suggest to the section about the _Fair Haven_ incident with the holo-cow...

Seven was part way through reorganising Tom’s anecdotes into categories under the subheadings; _‘Humorous’, ‘True’, ‘Humorous AND True’_ and finally _‘Humorous AND True However Harry_ _May_ _Decide To Terminate You Afterwards’,_ when Seven heard a door hiss open somewhere toward the back of the ship. The xB stood from her chair to see Raffi walking slowly out of her quarters, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Raffi?” Seven’s voice was tinged with worry, and her walk broke into a run as she saw the OPS officer wipe away tears.

The noise of Seven’s boots on the deck caught Raffi’s attention and she turned to the sound.

“I think,” Raffi’s voice broke with emotion, her brown eyes glistening with tears as the xB reached her, “Seven, I think I...get to be a _gran’ma.”_

Seven wordlessly closed the distance between them and drew the other woman into a tight hug. Raffi could feel a crack run through the countless years of pain and self doubt wrapped around her heart as she buried her face against Seven’s neck and half laughed, half sobbed into the Ranger’s hair. Raff rested her head against Seven’s shoulder as her breathing slowly began to level enough to speak.

“I mean it’s not _fixed-fixed_ or anything.” Raffi pulled back and sniffed, drying her eyes with her wrist. “Gabe’s still hurting. God, Seven, he has _every right_ to be. But Pel, she-” Raffi choked as the emotion flooded through her a second time.

“Gabe’s father-in-law, he named-” Raffi stopped, not knowing if the information was private. She didn’t want to screw up, not again.

“Gabe’s father-in-law,” Raffi restarted. “He and Pel were on one of the evacuation ships JL and I chartered. Apparently they still keep in touch with some other families they met on board the _Renegade_ and-” Raffi let the realisation sink in, “and they _don’t hate me.”_

“Perhaps,” Seven brushed the curls from Raffi’s eyes. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for rescuing as many people as you did?”

“But, babe,” Raffi shook her head, “I mean the way Pel was talking, she was making me out to be some kinda _hero_ and-”

“Did it never occur to you that people might think that?” Seven asked, disbelievingly. “Did it never occur to you that they might be _right?”_

Raffi wrapped her arms loosely around Seven’s waist and shrugged shyly. 

The xB cocked her head, looking fondly at the amazing woman in her arms. _“You_ are what Starfleet is _supposed_ to be, Raffi.”

“Washed up, drunk, and yet can’t even do _that_ properly?” Raffi scoffed with a self deprecating smile.

“I was going to say _brave.”_ Seven raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe noble or kind. But fine, if you _insist,_ I’ll add ‘glib’ since you appear to have your heart set on it.” She smirked as Raffi chuckled softly. Enjoying her ability to make Raffi smile. Seven leaned back into Raffi’s embrace, savouring the details of the way the other woman’s body felt against her own. She was glad for once for her perfect memory, if it meant being able to recall the gentle tickle of Raffi’s curls against her cheek and the hand tracing lazy paths across her back. Seven listened to the distant sound of Elnor quietly practicing his zither, carried on the still air from somewhere deep in the ship, and to the closer and quiet thrum of Raffi’s heart near to her own.

“I didn’t think I would ever feel like this again.” Seven said quietly. “Not after Bjayzl and-” she trailed off. “I am grateful, Raffi, for everything. For _you.”_

Raffi squeezed her hug a little tighter in reply.

“Back when I first met Tom he told me that ‘We all have a past. What matters is now.’” Seven glanced back and the still scrolling palm-holo of Tom’s speech on the bridge, “I didn’t understand it then. However I didn’t _have_ a past then beyond six years as a child and my time in the collective.” She turned back to Raffi. “But I think I understand it now. The importance of second chances. I’m glad you got yours.”

“A second chance is great and all, but what if I just _screw it up_ again? What if Pel realises she’s made a mistake or-”

“You’ll adapt. _We’ll_ adapt. You don’t have to do _everything_ by yourself anymore.” Seven leaned back against the railing above the mess and held Raffi closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “You’ve got a family here as well, remember. You’re not as alone as you seem to think.”

The soft light of the Coppelian star broke around the surface of the planet below. Bright, clear light filtering through the air of the upper deck. Raffi looked around at the details of the ship around her picked out in the light. The stack of books by the conn. The playing cards and paper scraps scattered over the table in the mess. The little holo cat leaping nimbly between cargo crates. She listened to the sound of Steward humming tunefully as he watered the plants in sickbay, before she turned back to Seven. The Ranger’s sure hands around her and her still surer gaze making Raffi feel like she could do just about anything.

And suddenly the ship didn’t seem like just freighter anymore, and instead seemed more like a home. 

“Not alone,” Raffi repeated, her eye’s darting between Seven’s, bluer now in this light that she’d ever seen before.

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I think I could get used to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter- long notes it seems!
> 
> [Icheb playing Kadis-kot ](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Kadis-kot?file=Children_playing_Kadis-kot.jpg) with the other xB kids in the messhall on Voyager.
> 
> [Tubba beasts](https://memory-beta.fandom.com/wiki/Tubba) are apparently like Bajoran cats. I wonder if Elnor has seen one?
> 
> The little xB girl is from [Vega colony](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Vega_colony) which in Star Trek Online, is where the Borg re-emerge.
> 
> Coincidentally the [only visual of the Vega system ](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Vega) on Memory Alpha is one from an Icheb centric episode. 
> 
> [This scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ivRZU9XWBWc) from Day of Honour, is what started a lot of the Tom Paris theme in this story. Seven had only just been released from confinement in the cargo hold (!) and when she’s confronted with someone who has a negative reaction to her because she’s and xB Tom is there to just be _kind._ He knows what it’s like to have people give up on you, or judge you in your past and he refuses to do it. Sometimes Tom gets written as an asshole but I think at his core he’s a Good Man™️. (As usual with clips of Seven on Youtube mind bleach may be needed if you read the comments. I suggest avoiding them like Andorian measles.)
> 
> Stardate 51186.2 is the star date from the following episode “Revulsion” and shuffled around a few numbers because who knows how stardates work? If you do, lemme know :)
> 
> [Harry Kim as Buster Kincade with the Delaneys!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4PPnSO0kDh8)
> 
> [The little iridescent booties ](https://youtu.be/09CeQIg0fPU?t=439) Seven replicated for B’Elanna’s baby shower. 
> 
> If you’re having a tough day, imagine Elnor gently bopping his [Hello Kitty bobble head.](https://www.hellokitty.com/hellokittyblog/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/BOBBLEHEAD-FREEBIE-540x540.jpg)
> 
> Doctor Crusher’s discussion around Hugh’s prosthetics, a nod to [Memento Mori ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24739990/chapters/59809528) by Melospiza_melodia. Chapter 2 gets me every time.
> 
> Hat tip to [In the Spaces Between](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24654397) by VoluptuousPanic, for the masterclass in Hugh/Elnor first time feels.
> 
> [Here’s a close up of Hugh’s outfit.](https://trekmovie.com/2020/01/25/get-a-look-at-the-star-trek-picard-costume-display-in-san-diego/) What even _is_ that fabric? Who knows. All I know is I’m having feelings about the combination of organic looking pattern/cloth with the geometric/inorganic looking overlay. 
> 
> [Urukan trees](https://memory-beta.fandom.com/wiki/Urukan_tree) are apparently found where Romulans settle. Do they bring saplings with them? I have terraforming questions.
> 
> Rios’ Bajoran engineer Yani (and her ire at La Sirena’s shoddy plasma manifold) borrowed lovingly from the incredible fic [We've Only Just Begun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25033180/chapters/60623335) by Spinifex. 
> 
> For Raffi’s last ship of the evacuation the [USS Renegade](https://memory-beta.fandom.com/wiki/USS_Renegade_\(NCC-63102\)) was the right class in the right place at the right time for this story. The fact that it’s called the _Renegade_ is just coincidentally cool and it being under the command of (Federation legend and youngest Captain in Starfleet history) [Captain Tryla Scott ](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Tryla_Scott) was irresistible. 
> 
> Harry kissing a holo-cow because Tom is an unstoppable prankster is great, sure, but watching [the episode trailer ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vG8ZouXoa5o) (the only place I could find the clip!) is it’s own _unique_ experience.
> 
> Romulan from [this Rihannsu Dictionary.](http://web.archive.org/web/20060927153852/http://atrek.org/Dhivael/rihan/engtorihan.html#C)  
>  _hiakh'mne_ / sickness, disease, illness  
>  _kheh (grain used in Romulan ale)_ / Malt  
>  _di'ranov_ / father  
>  _lhiet_ / fruit
> 
> New chapter (singular, the final one!) posted let’s say _hopefully_ next Sunday ;)


	16. A Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Beta reader Lintila, who if she were asked by Mary Oliver at the beginning of May _"What she planned to do with her one wild and precious life?"_ she would probably not have given the answer "Well I’d like to spend _at least_ a good 48 hours of it over the next few months proofreading Raffi/Seven". I am, however, incredibly grateful she did <3
> 
> Thanks also to the Beta’s beta, Spinifex. Keeper of the fine toothed comb and my partner in crime for ‘pancakes and squee’, I’ll miss Sundays <3
> 
> No content warning this week other than to say this chapter contains dangerous levels of fluff. So much fluff. Weapons grade fluff. Hope you enjoy!

**6 Months Later**

La Sirena’s warp core hummed peacefully. Seven stirred, her eyes still closed as she listened to the warm tone that thrummed through the air at the base of her hearing. The low noise was flecked with the distant, muted sounds of the crew going about their morning routine. Someone clattered dishes in the mess hall and the gentle lull of easy chatter joined the warp core’s meandering journey through the still air of Seven’s quarters. 

The xB didn’t open her eyes, she didn’t need to. She could already see her room perfectly in her mind; the picture laid out in her memory in flawless detail. Behind her eyelids she could see the star-dusted darkness of space outside the window. She could visualise the duraglass reflecting the small sofa with its cosy patchwork-blanket throw. The star chart painting from Raffi hung on the bulkhead, the scattered points of gold paint spread across the canvas were echoed by the hapless pattern of clothes scattered over the floor.

Seven smiled and turned her wandering attention to the sleeping woman next to her.

Eyes still closed, she slowly swept her leg across the rumpled sheets and ran her foot over the smooth skin of Raffi’s calf. Seven rolled onto her right, sliding an arm comfortably around the OPS officer’s waist and pressing herself snugly against the other woman’s back. Raffi’s bare skin felt smooth against the metal of the xB’s palm. Seven smiled at the tickle of wild hair against her face and the gentle faded smell of Raffi’s favourite soap. 

She ran her nose along the nape of Raffi’s neck, nuzzling her cheek against soft curls and grinning at the sleepy noises of appreciation from the other woman.

Seven’s limbs _ached_ in a welcome reminder of the night before. The xB idly noted her nanoprobes' lazy work over a gentle sprain. She suspected the marks Raffi had left at her neck would already be gone; though the memory of their arrival was still pleasantly vivid. As was the rest of it...

The xB let her perfect recall pass over _those_ particular recollections, already added to the back catalogue. The pleasurable memories didn’t _yet_ outweigh the painful ones but Raffi certainly seemed keen on trying to redress the balance. Still breathing in the other woman’s scent, Seven smiled at the tired hand that moved to cover her own; fingers tenderly tracing the familiar contours of the implants along her fingers with practiced pattern. Seven sighed and allowed herself the satisfaction of revisiting a few _choice_ moments. The soft touch of Raffi’s body against her own. Muscles tensing under her beautiful, dark skin. The desperate, yearning hunger in Raffi’s eyes. The shape of her mouth; Seven’s name on her tongue, as her back arched up in pleasure. Seven shuddered and her own contented hum joined La Sirena’s.

The Ranger sighed happily and opened her eyes. She kissed the warm skin behind Raffi’s ear and glanced around the room. It was exactly as imagined except the darkness of interstellar space outside the duraglass was gone, replaced instead by the vibrant sea-foam greens and blues of Earth-rise. White cloud systems rippled over the snow capped peaks below. The sunlight gleamed brightly off the icecaps and the oceans, illuminating the room in gentle light; sending the rumpled bed sheets into a landscape of rolling shadows that clung enticingly to Raffi’s hips.

“Morning,” Seven murmured, pulling her hand away from Raffi’s caress and beginning her own lingering touch against the other woman’s skin. Raffi moaned sleepily at the feeling of the xB’s fingers ghosting invitingly across her waist and her stomach, and along the hollow of her hip.

“Computer,” Raffi said, voice half muffled by her pillow, “time?”

_“Time now; 08:37.”_

“Sufficient time.” Seven breathed. Raffi didn’t need to turn around to know Seven was smiling, she could hear it in her voice.

“Sadly not,” Raffi chuckled, turning in bed. Seven enjoyed the way Raffi’s nose wrinkled when she laughed.

“Perhaps sufficient for _some_ of what I had in mind?” The xB grinned.

Raffi looked at her lover, amused if unconvinced, before speaking to the ceiling, “Computer; time in Canada, er, _Pacific Time Zone.”_

_“Time now; 16:37.”_

“...nope.” Raffi sighed and kissed Seven on the nose. “And you’re _already_ late.”

“I could always be later?” Seven chanced, pulling Raffi on top of her. The OPS officer sat, knees bracketing Seven’s hips as she looked in playful exasperation down at the xB.

“Not for a _wedding,_ babe!”

“Wedding _rehearsal,”_ Seven corrected dryly with feigned indifference, her hands resting on Raffi’s thighs. “I suspect Harry would understand, it is his second one after all.”

“Even if that _were_ true.” Raffi pretended to consider the xB’s statement. “Who’d help the best man with his speech, hmm?”

“Tom is a competent writer,” Seven mused as she pushed herself up, “with several published holo-novels. He will adapt.” She finished her sentence by pressing a kiss against Raffi’s chest.

 _“Meanwhile…”_ The Ranger purred and rolled Raffi back onto the bed, giggling as she shuffled down to kiss her lover’s stomach.

“Hey, hang on,” The OPS officer tilted Seven’s chin up to face her. “Do _not_ start something you’re not going to finish.” Raffi teased.

“I am _very_ confident I can make sure you finish.” Seven smirked, looking up at Raffi with a self-assured smile.

Raffi jumped at the thump of a fist against the door. Seven didn’t flinch, she’d heard Rios’ footsteps approaching.

“Hey, Raf!” The Captain said, voice muffled by the bulkhead, followed by a beep of the door interface.

“I’m not bringing you layabouts room service.” Rios sounded tinny over the door console speaker. “And if you think I’m saving you any of Elnor’s bread then you’re _sorely_ mistaken.”

 _“Cristóbal Rios!”_ Raffi huffed back toward the door, breaking out the full-name-in-case-of-emergencies voice. _“You promised!”_

“Sorry, Raf,” Raffi couldn’t see the shrug but she _felt it._ “No one told me the kid was using the hot plate.” 

“And Seven?” Cris continued, “Your friend’s transport window is in fifteen minutes.”

“Understood.” The xB replied, resting her cheek on Raffi’s hip.

There was a muffled shout, presumably from the mess hall, followed by a _“Yeah, I told ‘em,”_ from Rios as he walked away.

Raffi shifted and a pair of dark metal handcuffs slid off the bed from behind a pillow and clattered onto the floor.

“Hey, look!” The OPS officer rolled over and leaned over the edge of the bed to pick them up, waving the restraints over her shoulder at Seven with a grin, “found ‘em!”

“Excellent work.” Seven smirked confidently, easing back up the bed and kissing Raffi’s arm, “Perhaps we should celebrate?”

 _“Quit. It!”_ Raffi laughed and playfully pushed the xB away. Seven obligingly flumped back against their pillows and grinned mischievously.

“You,” Raffi said, sliding out of bed and stretching, before looking back at her girlfriend, _“are late.”_

She tossed Seven the cuffs. “Nightstand.” 

“As you wish.” Seven sighed, defeated, before rolling onto her stomach and dropping the restraints into the drawer with a clatter.

* * *

_“Status: hot”_ The repurposed gel pack plasma conditioner announced to the mess hall. By the time Seven and Raffi were climbing down the stairs to the lower deck, the rest of the crew were already assembled around the pushed-together tables and tucking into a breakfast of freshly made bread and Romulan preserves.

“Your approach could do with some refinement.” Elnor said with a smile. The Romulan stood at the head of the table, framed by the door to sickbay as he corrected Soji on her roti rolling technique. Soji sighed, and abandoned the rolling pin, choosing instead to squish the lump of dough down with the flat of her palm before hoping for the best and laying it onto the surface of the hot plate. Elnor shook his head.

“Here.” Cris reached into the small wooden pallet in the center of the table, grabbing one of the last oranges from the packing paper and tossing it to Raffi as she sat down. “New shipment is arriving tomorrow. Help yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do!” Raffi leant over and plucked another fruit from the box, passing it over her shoulder to Seven as the xB took a seat. She turned to Soji “Got your day trip sorted then?”

“Yeah, we’re going to the Daystrom Institute first.” The anthropologist said as she prodded her lump of dough on the hotplate.

Agnes sipped her coffee and nodded to Picard and Hugh. “These two have a conference to attend about the Synth-xB situation.”

“But afterwards we’re taking Elnor here.” Hugh leaned across the table and passed Raffi a PADD. Raffi’s eyes scanned over the details of a downtown Okinawa business called _“The Black Cat Cafe”._

“I am not allowed to know.” Elnor waved a hand for Raffi to hold the PADD higher. “It’s a surprise.”

Raffi grinned at Cris, “Oh, you’ll love it!” She teased, wiggling the PADD at her friend.

“I’m _not_ going.” Rios grumbled.

“Fine, _you_ can stay at the Institute,” Agnes said, stretching to reach the jam. “Felix Knightly’s giving a four hour talk on advanced holography. I’m sure you’ll find it riveting.”

“Fine,” Cris huffed, using the end of his knife to slide the jar closer to the doctor. “I’ll come to the _pendejo_ cat caf-” The rest of his words were cut off with Agnes’ elbow to his ribs.

“Ah.” Elnor smugly flipped his roti, with practiced ease. “Now I know there will be cats involved.” He grinned.

“Well I, for one, would _very much_ enjoy taking in a lecture.” Steward’s voice tickled the back of the Captain’s neck and Cris tried not to flinch.

“No,” He held up a flat palm before turning round to face the holo, “if _you_ go off ship, they’re all going to want to.”

“Aye!” Ian shouted from sickbay where he was assisting Emil with the medical replicator. “An’ I was hopin’ I might squeeze in a wee trip to McKinley Station, while we’re in the system?”

Emil held the replicator’s power converter steady while Ian worked. “And I’ve collected a substantial amount of data over the course of Hugh’s recovery. I’d like to present it in person, so to speak, to Starfleet Medical.”

 _“¡Necesito conseguir más Phasers!”_ Emmet shouted simply from the armoury, before adding in heavily accented standard, “I can pick them up if you give me the credits?”

Rios raised his eyebrows at the EHH, his point proven. “See what I mean?”

“Would it be really _such_ an issue, to be without emergency systems?” Steward implored.

“Yes, it would be such an issue,” Cris took a bite of his roti and talked with his mouthful, mostly because the bread was delicious but also partly to annoy the EHH, “if there’s no emergency systems then we’ll _have_ to land.”

“Oh, can’t have that!” Raffi laughed before adding in a stage whisper to Hugh, “Unpaid parking fines.”

The xB chuckled as the Captain looked offended.

“Hey, it’s not _my_ fault you can’t land, babe!” Raffi said, sticking out her tongue.

Rios flicked a bit of bread at his friend and the OPS officer was about to reply in kind when Enoch flickered into view behind her.

“Can I add I’d like to visit the Griffith Observatory, since we’re all making requests. And Raffi? It’s 0900 hours.” The ENH chirped. “Your subspace call will be coming through soon.”

“Thanks, honey!” She nodded gratefully.

“Though I don’t know why you ask me to remind you _every_ Friday.” The holo continued as Raffi pushed herself up from the bench, taking her still unpeeled orange with her.

“I just like hearing someone else say it.” Raffi grinned and squeezed Enoch’s arm. “Reminds me it’s real.” 

Seven leant her head back as Raffi walked past and was rewarded with a brief kiss.

“Give my regards to Pel.” The Ranger said with a gentle smile.

“Sit in on the next one?” Raffi asked, pausing to smooth her hands against the leather over Seven’s shoulders.

“If you’d like that?” Seven rested her head back against Raffi’s stomach.

“I would,” Raffi smiled, “Pel would too, apparently you’re a _d’aulha ri’nanov.”_

“Grandmother’s mate.” Elnor nodded sagely, passing a plate of fresh bread to Picard, who helped himself. “Or ‘chosen grandmother’. Depending how you wish to translate it.”

“Oh that’s so _sweet!”_ Agnes chimed before swiftly receiving the full brunt of Seven’s raised eyebrow. “Or not-” She trailed off. _“Stoic_ really.” Rolling her eyes good-naturedly as the xB turned away.

Raffi’s palm-holo sounded from her pocket. It hadn’t finished playing the first note before the OPS officer yanked it from her vest and answered on voice only.

“I’ve just got you on voice while I get to my room.” Raffi silently waved bye to the crew and trotted up the mess hall stairs at a brisk pace. “Morning, honey!” 

“Good morning, Mom.” Pel answered, “You were right, she _did_ start crawling!”

“See? Y’know, Gabe crawled early too?” Raffi’s voice faded as she made her way to her quarters. “Did you replicate those table corner bumpers I sent you the specs for?”

Seven and Rios shared a smile and a grateful feeling, things seemed to be going well for Raffi, when a familiar voice came over Cris’ comm badge.

“Paris to Captain Rios?”

“Rios here.” Cris replied.

“I’m ready when you are, Captain.”

Steward bristled excitedly and disappeared. Rematerializing a moment later in the mess hall and clicking his fingers. Any empty plates and dishes found themselves in the reclamator along with Cris’ half finished breakfast. 

“I wasn’t done!” Rios protested.

“You’re the _Captain.”_ Steward said curtly. “It’s _expected_ that you greet first time guests.”

“To be fair to the Captain,” Picard said thoughtfully, warming his hands on his still steaming tea, “Rios didn’t greet me when _I_ arrived.”

Cris was about to reply when Steward spoke over him. “I’m afraid, Admiral, _you_ were a paying customer, which the Captain here feels almost _morally_ obligated to be rude towards.”

Soji chuckled.

“Guests however, are _my_ department.” Steward straightened his shoulders and glared at Rios with newfound confidence. “Now if you wouldn’t mind greeting our new arrival, _Sir.”_

* * *

Seven and Rios excused themselves from the breakfast table and followed Steward to the transporter pad. The Captain nodded to Emmet as the hologram stood by the armoury. He was carefully reviewing the phasers, hooking one back in place with a metallic click.

Seven could feel her stomach tighten. It had been months since she’d reconnected with Tom but the thought of seeing him in person felt more real. What was the correct greeting? She wondered. The xB didn't have long to consider her feelings on the matter however, as Rios signalled to Steward to initialise the transport.

Steward slid his holographic hand across the glass of the console causing a shimmer of photons to light up the back of the ship. The light crystallised into the shape of her old friend, who adjusted a messenger bag on his shoulder and grinned.

“Welcome to La Sirena, Mr Paris.” Steward said warmly, offering a bow and gesturing for Tom to step off the transporter pad.

Seven’s back straightened and she stepped forward, stiffly offering a formal handshake.

“Don’t you dare, Seven.” Tom shook his head and opened his arms.

The ghost of an uncertain smile crossed over Seven’s face and she took back the offered hand, brushed aside her uncertainty and instead stepped into the man’s warm hug. The xB leaned her head fondly against Tom’s as she enjoyed the reunion.

Tom slapped her gently on the back, like a boxer tapping out of a hold and pulled back. “It’s _good_ to see you, Constance!” He grinned before turning to Cris.

“Captain Rios!” He took Cris’ hand in a warm handshake.

“Good to finally meet you Tom!” Rios nodded. “Sorry, you’ve just caught us as we were heading out.”

“Shame,” Tom said before a thought struck him, “say, did you listen to the music I sent you?”

“He hasn’t stopped!” Agnes butted in as she strolled over to join them. Cris coughed to cover his embarrassment.

“Did you send him your playlist yet?” Agnes continued.

Cris shot the doctor a ‘be cool’ glare, before he turned to Tom.

“There’s a file under _Rios-beta-two-beta,”_ Cris shrugged trying to resurrect his projected nonchalance, “The _Thin Lizzy_ track is good. Have a listen if you get the chance.”

 _“Please_ do,” Agnes said, “he spent ages putting it together!” She giggled as the captain flushed into his beard.

“Come on!" The doctor called back to the rest of the crew who were making their way to the transporter. "We’re late.”

“Hey kid!” Tom called as he saw Elnor climb the stairs from the mess. “Here- I brought a nice surprise for you!” 

Tom reached into his bag and pulled out a colourful bundle of cloth, waiting until the young Romulan was closer before tossing it to him.

Elnor caught the bundle neatly. He unfolded it and looked, with mounting dismay, at the clashing, gaudy design of the Hawaiian shirt. The pink birds were back. This time they had sunglasses.

“This _is_ a surprise,” Elnor said, brow furrowed, “but it is _not_ a nice one.”

“Er, he means thank you!” Soji chipped in.

“I do not.” Elnor corrected, bemused.

Tom elbowed Seven and jutted his chin at the Romulan. “I love this kid.”

“Where’s my jacket?” Cris muttered to himself looking around.

“Bridge.” Hugh thumbed over his shoulder as he approached, following behind Elnor.

Rios grumbled and set off at a loping jog, his feet clanging on the deck as Seven introduced her friend to the rest of the crew.

Rios spun the OPS station seat, finding nothing, before he glanced up at the Captain’s chair and spotted his jacket. Curled up on top of it was a sleeping black and ginger cat, lounging comfortably. Cris peered down the ship, the crew seemed to be tied up with their guest. Satisfied he wasn’t being watched, Rios smiled faintly and ran a thumb between Hugh Two’s soft ears. The holocat purred gently and kneaded the thick fabric of the jacket in his sleep. He decided to let the cat be and looked at Earth hanging outside the large windows before wandering back to the other end of the ship.

“I thought you were getting your jacket?” Agnes looked puzzled.

“Eh,” Rios shrugged, “how cold can Japan be?”

The crew bid Tom and Seven farewell and beamed down to the planet. Tom fished around in his bag and dug out a PADD.

“Your EHH told me you had a holosuite,” Tom grinned, “so I brought a _Captain Proton_ programme I thought we could try for old times sake?”

“Customised it myself,” Tom continued, “it’s the latest one in the _‘Invaders From the Fifth Dimension’_ series! It’s the one with the man-eating plants!”

Seven raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, and began leading Tom toward the mess.

“There’s a great song in it,” he added in a sing-song voice.

“I'm not singing,” the xB said flatly.

“Oh come on Seven, you’re a _great_ singer!”

The Ranger looked at her friend’s lopsided grin and huffed.

“Fine,” Seven smiled despite herself and held out her hand. Tom passed her the PADD and her eyes scanned over the lyrics.

 _“Feed me… does it have to be human?”_ She read aloud and looked back up to Tom, clearly unimpressed.

“It’s _much_ better than it sounds, trust me.” He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“So,” Tom looked around as they walked along the deck. “Nice ship! Not a lot of space though.”

Tom looked thoughtful. “Where’d you keep your alcove?”

“My nanoprobes have adapted,” Seven said, trying not to sound too proud. “I now sleep instead.”

“Sleeping? In a bed?” Tom looked like he’d never considered that a possibility. “Bet that has its _advantages,_ huh?” He caught the xB’s eye and raised his eyebrows knowingly.

“Your sense of humour is juvenile, Tom.” Seven held her hands behind her back. “My bedroom is none of your business.”

“Hey!” Tom held up his hands. “All I’m saying is that I’m sure you not having to use an alcove is good for Raffi!” 

The ETH barked with laughter as he passed them on the way back toward the armoury. 

_“True!”_ Emmet spoke in Spanish though Seven understood perfectly. “There is _no one_ on La Sirena who _doesn’t_ know when it’s ‘good for Raffi’!” Emmet winked theatrically at Seven and walked off chuckling to himself.

“What did he say?” Tom said, watching the holo swagger away.

Seven cocked her head. “He agreed it’s none of your business.”

“So,” She promptly changed the subject. “You wanted one last run through of your speech?”

* * *

The wedding rehearsal went without a hitch and the next morning found Raffi and Seven in their quarters, getting ready for the real thing.

Seven tugged on a silver boot in a fabric that matched her sequined jumpsuit. The material was drawn inwards above her hips with a corded belt which matched the colour of the delicate cloth. The silver fabric scattered faint, fluttering traces of La Sirena’s lights against the xB’s skin, as she checked her hair in the mirror on the small desk. Seven turned as Raffi stepped out of the bathroom. The xB took in the welcome sight of the other woman’s low-cut, backless, black dress and gold boots.

Raffi winked, she knew she looked good. She walked with an exaggerated sway toward her girlfriend, watching Seven’s eyes wander, and began to fiddle with the clasp of a necklace, trying and failing to attach it.

“Damn thing,” Raffi grumbled as she struggled to connect the clasp behind her head.

“Stop fussing,” Seven said, taking the necklace from Raffi’s hands and draping it smoothly against her collar bone, “and let me help you.”

Seven easily hooked the clasp of the necklace together, adding a kiss to the back of Raffi’s neck for good measure.

“An excellent choice of outfit.” Seven smiled and ran her knuckles up Raffi’s back, the other woman’s skin warm and smooth under her slow touch.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Raffi chuckled, turning to kiss Seven over her shoulder before she walked over to the small sofa. She grabbed an overstuffed winter coat from over the arm. The OPS officer pulled the huge, puffy, yellow coat around her, practically disappearing inside of it. Seven chuckled as Raffi’s hair bunched up cutely around the high, puffed collar.

“Anticipating a snowstorm?” Seven teased, unhooking her own coat from over the back of the desk chair and easing her arms into the sleeves. The teal blue wool tugged close against the Ranger’s figure as she tied the metal-capped belt around her waist.

 _“You_ might be an indestructible xB,” Raffi’s voice was muffled by the collar which she tugged up past her nose.

 _“I_ lived in the desert for a decade.” The OPS officer waddled up to her girlfriend and peered out at her between the coat and her curls. “I don’t do cold.”

Seven snorted at the sight of one of the Federation's finest minds looking like a giant, stuffed yellow penguin. It was adorable. Seven tugged the collar down a little to kiss her on the nose.

The ENH suppressed a chuckle as the couple approached the transporter pad.

“Something you wanted to say, honey?” Raffi said from inside her coat, a smile in her voice.

“Oh no, absolutely not!” The ENH lilted and shook his head. “Or not while you’ve got your back-up there, at least.” He nodded to Seven who looked rather pleased to have been apparently lightly menacing on autopilot.

“You kids have fun now!” Enoch beamed as he input the transport coordinates for British Columbia and hit energize.

* * *

The wedding service was beautiful. Held under a high, vaulted outdoor canopy with the snow-covered Rocky Mountains providing a stunning backdrop. The guests, a colourful mix of civilians and Starfleet personnel. The latter were easy to identify in their immaculate Starfleet dress uniforms.

Seven smiled as she looked across to see Tuvok hold his wife’s hand warmly during Harry’s exchanging of rings. She nodded back with a smile when Naomi turned to grin at her from the front row. The young astrometrics officer’s auburn hair was bright against the teal of her dress uniform.

Raffi was glad of her warm coat every time the cold breeze reminded her that the dress underneath it was backless. She took the opportunity to shuffle closer to Seven.

Outside the tall windows of the dining room the late afternoon light glittered across the frozen lake, the ice sparkling almost as much as the silverware on the elegantly dressed tables that filled the room.

Smartly-suited waiters filtered around the beautifully dressed tables as champagne flutes were passed out to the guests. Tom took a tall flute of orange juice from a passing server's tray. He stood and chimed the glass with a spoon, hushing the guests and beginning his speech.

“For those of you _fortunate_ enough not to know me; I’m Tom. Harry’s best… and some may say _only_ friend!”

“Hey!” Harry took a playful swipe at his best man’s arm as Tom continued.

“I’d like to thank Harry here for giving me another crack at the best man gig. I can’t only assume he gets a laugh out of me playing the sidekick for once!”

 _“That’s true!”_ Harry mouthed to B’Elanna, chuckling.

“I think we can all agree Megan looks amazing.” Tom nodded to the woman on grooms’ left.

“Though I’m honestly disappointed she didn’t take my suggestion of breaking out her old _Captain Proton_ costume for the occasion. I’ll say one thing for Demonica, Mistress of Evil, it’s that like her and her holographic counterpart, our Delaney twins have never _not_ come as a pair.”

James grinned at his sister as Tom clapped a hand warmly down to Harry’s shoulder.

“Harry, only _you_ could spend six years with someone in the Delta Quadrant and only get together _after_ you’re back on Earth!”

Harry shrug turned to a smile as his husband kissed his cheek.

Tom reached into the pocket of his dress uniform and pulled out a PADD, before clearing his throat. “OK, so most of you were here for the first wedding but for those of you who missed my first speech… let me tell you all about _the holocow.”_

There was a groan from the room.

 _“What?!”_ Tom scoffed. “It's a very _moo-ving_ love story!” 

The wedding guests protested a second time.

“Oh, fine,” Tom waved a hand, clearly enjoying the crowd's reaction. “Fine, just for you guys, I’ll stop _milking_ it.”

“Was he _always_ this bad?” Raffi leaned in to ask Seven.

“No,” the Ranger said flatly, watching the guest’s grimace and laugh at Tom’s bad puns.

“This,” the xB reviewed her memory and cocked her chin, “this is _much_ worse.”

Despite his terrible jokes Tom’s speech was a good one. Silly and sentimental in the right measure.

 _Tom really_ _is_ _a good writer,_ Seven thought as she listened to her old friend’s address. Tom wove anecdotes together with the skill of someone who knew not to ruin a good story with the truth. The pilot continued his gentle teasing of his best friend before reading out subspace messages from absent friends. There was a note from Admiral Janeway sending her warmest regards and apologising for her absence, as well as one from Neelix sending his congratulations and a recipe for a traditional Talaxian wedding pie.

“I miss that guy,” Tom smiled, looking up from the PADD, “though I _don’t_ miss his cooking!”

There was a half suppressed laugh of recognition from a few of the Voyager crew.

“So, like I said,” Tom clicked his PADD to the next page of notes, “most of you were here for the first wedding, or as I’m calling it now; _the dress rehearsal.”_

“Those of you who were here might remember my speech wasn’t _that_ great. I've made a few changes this time,” Tom knowingly held up his orange juice to a shy chuckle around the room, “but the biggest mistake we all made that day was in congratulating the ‘bride and groom’.”

“Now it’s been a long road for these two. But when I first heard about James’ transition, I asked Harry if anything was going to change.”

Tom glanced warmly across to his friend.

“I’ll never forget, Harry just kept on packing for his Freecloud concert and said, ‘Sure, Tom, I gotta change the dedication on the clarinet arrangement from _‘to my wife’_ to _‘to my husband’.”_

“‘Easy as that?’ I said. ”And Harry just _looked at me_ like I was an idiot-”

“That’s ‘cos you _are_ an idiot, Tom.” B’Elanna teased.

“When I said _deal with the hecklers,_ B’Elanna, I didn’t mean _be one!”_ Tom laughed before beginning his thought again “Harry just looked at me and he said:”

Tom turned to look at the grooms.

“‘Tom, _nothing’s_ easier than loving him.” 

James smiled and rested his head on his husband's shoulder fondly as Tom continued.

“Life doesn't always go the way you expect. That doesn't mean it’s wrong. It just keeps things interesting. But the thing that these two have taught me is that when you find the right person, _you know.”_

Seven’s heart leapt and she smiled at the feeling of Raffi’s hand finding hers.

Tom smiled towards the xB’s table, “A good friend of mine, Seven of Nine, is fond of responding to a challenge with _‘we will adapt’_ and honestly? I’m inclined to think she’s right.” 

That hadn’t been in Tom’s speech when Seven had last checked it. She smiled as he continued.

“Life doesn’t always give us exactly what we expect, but when the people around you are good... then so is the journey.”

Tom caught Seven’s eye and smiled before he picked up his drink.

“A toast: to old friends, new beginnings,” Tom raised his orange juice. “And the happy couple!”

“The happy couple!” The bright sound of clinking glasses and cheers of agreement filled the room in reply.

* * *

As the speeches came to a close the guests filtered into a stunning atrium. Seven was pulled into conversation by Naomi, who wanted to introduce her astrometrics colleges to the famous Seven of Nine, and Raffi saw an opportunity to excuse herself to get a breath of fresh air outside with her synthetic snakeleaf.

Raffi was tugging on her coat as she noticed Harry and Tom talking in frantic whispers by the door.

“It’ll be _fine,_ Harry” Tom squeezed his friend’s shoulder, “we’ll figure it out.”

“How?” Harry sighed, obviously exasperated. “The reception starts in less than an hour, Tom!”

“You play the clarinet, _you_ can be the replacement!” Tom beamed.

“I can’t play for my own first dance, Tom!”

“What about the orchestra crowd?” Tom jutted his chin at a group of Harry’s friends, mingling over by the grand wooden staircase.

“In a pinch maybe, but they’re _guests,”_ Harry’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t want to drag them into their day job at a party.”

“Sorry, er, ‘scuse me” Raffi said, sidling up to her old parisses squares teammate, “Everything OK, Harry?”

“Pianist broke his wrist.” Tom butted in.

“So?” Raffi shrugged, “So give him an osteo-regenerator and send him on stage?”

“It’s a compound fracture,” Harry sighed. “The things broken in eight places and even if he _could_ play in an hour he’s still at the hospital.”

“Ouch.” Raffi winced. “Sorry to hear it.” 

The OPS officer considered her options before turning to Tom. “What about you! Seven says you’re always lugging around twenty different holo programmes.” 

“Sure!” Tom nodded and turned to the groom. “Y’know I’d have the Sandríne’s band ready in a heartbeat, Harry, but _somebody,”_ he glared over at B’Elanna, “told me I couldn’t bring my holo files to the wedding.”

“-and _that’s_ why I can recommend the cheesecake!” Raffi’s thoughts were interrupted by what she assumed was The EMH of Voyager’s smug tone. The old Mark I Emergency Medical Hologram chuckled again, beside a very bored looking elderly lady.

“Of course, Mrs. Kim, I explain it in much greater detail in _Photons Be Free-”_

Raffi felt sorry for Harry’s grandmother as she pretended to be interested in the overenthusiastic hologram's anecdote, before grinning as an idea came to mind.

“Tell me, Harry,” The OPS officer smiled “they have _holoemmitters_ in here, right? Do you think they’ve got enough buffer capacity for say… five emergency holograms?”

A slow smile spread across Tom's face as the best man cottoned on to Raffi’s plan. 

“Musiker,” he pulled her by the shoulder into a sideways hug, “what did we ever do without you?”

* * *

Rios tried to ignore the sound of Soji and Elnor sparring at the other end of the ship.

 _It should be possible,_ he mused, _for people to beat the hell out of each other without so much god-damn politeness._

There was a heavy _thud,_ followed by an unnervingly honest and cheerful, “Fantastic throw, Soji!” 

Rios huffed, kicked his feet up onto the tactical console and turned to the next page of his hardback. His quiet contemplation of the meaning of suffering was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Raffi’s subspace I.D on the readout beside him. The Captain lowered his book with a sigh and connected the call.

“How was Japan?” Raffi asked brightly, as her face filled the screen. Behind her Cris could make out the foyer of a fancy hotel.

“Suspicious.” Cris replied, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

“Okinawa was suspicious?” Raffi laughed, confused.

“No.” Cris closed his book pointedly and tossed it onto the console in front of him. “You are. What’d you want, Raf?”

Rios watched his friend tuck the hand that wasn’t holding the palm-holo under her armpit.

 _Wherever she is,_ Rios thought. _It looks_ _cold._

“Oh, come on, babe! You’re not seriously saying I only call when I want something?” 

“Don’t you?”

There was a pause before the OPS officer shrugged. “OK, so-”

 _“Knew it!”_ Rios interrupted, chuckling. “No, way you’re wasting time calling me when you’ve got Seven all to yourself for once.” He stretched back in his chair, smugly. “So what’s up?”

“You can transfer all five Emergency holos off the ship, right?”

“In theory. Synth ban’s lifted I don’t have to worry about them getting wiped but-”

Raffi straightened her necklace and rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s just the reception band didn’t show and-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rios took a cigar out of his pocket and set about clipping it, “let me get this straight. You want to transfer all five holos to your little party?” 

Rios scoffed and tucked the cigar into the edge of his mouth. He lit it and took a thoughtful drag.

“That’ll leave La Sirena with _no_ emergency systems, Raf, you know I can’t do that and leave the ship in orbit.” He blew out smoke at the screen. “Even somewhere as safe as Earth, I wouldn’t risk it.”

“So land the ship.” Raffi said as if it were obvious.

 _“¡Ridícula!”_ Cris scoffed, shaking his head.

Raffi raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “You’re just too chicken after you dinged the hull the last time!”

“Hey, that Bolian’s shuttle was parked outside it’s berth, Raf, and you know it.”

“Tell that to the Bolian!” Raffi laughed, sensing she’d found the right buttons to push.

“I did!” Rios pointed to his right shoulder where the scar from the duritanium stab wound was still not properly healed. “Remember how _that_ turned out?”

“Look,” Raffi tried another tack. “Harry’s husband said if you make this work then you can come to the reception and bring the others with you.”

Rios laughed. “What makes you think I wanna spend _my_ evening rubbing shoulders with a bunch of _stuffed shirt federation-“_

“The buffet is at 1900 hours and there’s an open bar.” Raffi interrupted.

Rios was already bringing up the controls. “So where’s the venue again?”

“I’m transferring you the coordinates now.” Raffi looked off screen. “See you soon, babe.” 

She grinned. “And tell people to dress up!”

Rios closed the comms and spun his chair around. “Computer, activate Emergency Hospitality Hologram.”

The EHH flickered into life as Rios pushed himself up from his seat, cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled down the ship. “Hey! Kung-Fu kids!” 

Elnor beamed at the Captain from inside the Synth’s perfect headlock, he waved.

“Go wash up and tell the others we’ve got a party to go to!”

“What party?!” The EHH ducked in front of the Captain’s face, looking frantically through his folio for something he’d missed.

“You’ve got a gig!” Cris slapped the holo on his arm. “The wedding band canceled. _You’re_ the replacement. Get the others ready to transfer down, you got 15 minutes.” He grinned, strolling off to find his suit.

 _“A gig?_ _”_ Steward stood in quiet shock, his hand drifting to where the Captain had touched his arm.

“It’s finally happening,” he whispered, staring out the window at the black and sparkling gold of the planet below, “it’s a _hospitality emergency.”_

The EHH shook his head for a moment as the Captain’s words sunk in. “I’m sorry, did you say _15 minutes?!”_

“15 minutes is perfectly adequate preparation time.” Emil said as he materialised next to the EHH, rolling his eyes. “You’re just being dramatic.”

“I can assure you I’m not!” Steward said. Dramatically.

Emmet appeared in the tactical chair and spun around to face the others. “What is this about playing with no rehearsal? Seems foolish.”

“But just _think,_ Emmet!” Enoch appeared, leaning over from OPS. “Everyone’s going to be there! Admirals, Captains… I could meet _Naomi Wildman!_ I use her star charts all the time and-”

The EHH wasn’t listening. The band had never played off ship before and he desperately wanted to make his Captain proud. He had 14 minutes and 26.3 seconds to put together the perfect set list.

 _And I know just where to start..._ Steward thought as he snapped his folio closed and into glittering nothingness. He didn’t need it.

Steward shushed the other holos excited chatter before resting his hands on his hips. For just a second, framed against the nighttime gold of the planet below, his silhouette could have been the Captains.

“Computer,” the EHH paused for effect. “Play _Rios-beta-two-beta.”_

The Captain’s carefully crafted _Tom Paris_ playlist vibrated out of the bridge’s comms. The strident guitar opening and upbeat drumbeat of _‘The Boys Are Back In Town’_ echoing down through the ship. Emmet was already tapping his toe to the rhythm.

“OK, _Emergency Holographic Band,”_ Steward clicked his fingers, summoning a pair of dark glasses and sliding them on decisively. _“Let’s go live up to our name.”_

“Very well,” Emil sighed, “but _only_ if you’ll stop wearing those ridiculous sunglasses indoors...”

* * *

“Come on, come on!” Rios shouted, tugging at his bowtie and trying to corral his crew towards the cargo bay exit. Soji adjusted her fluffy coat and Agnes pulled a luxurious shawl around herself as the two women perched patiently on a crate, waiting for the men to hurry up and get their collective act together.

“It’s going to be very cold, Elnor.” Hugh’s voice made it into the echoing cargo hold before the xB himself did, his tone was patient but pleading towards the younger man as they walked into the cargo bay.

“We are attending the celebration of a wedding!” Elnor looked taken aback as they walked, adjusting the indigo cloth of his formal robe over his shoulder. “I cannot wear _shoes_ to a _wedding!”_

“Kid, it’s _winter._ In Canada.” Rios scoffed and gave up with his bow tie. “Your toes are gonna fall off! Just get your boots.”

Elnor looked crestfallen. “It would be very rude for me to disrespect the grooms like that.”

Hugh sighed deeply and stretched his arms above his head. He cracked his tritanium back with a grunt. “Captain Rios, how far is the venue from the ship?”

“Ten minute walk.” Cris shrugged and hit the door release. “Give or take?”

With a metallic screech the large cargo bay doors opened, metal protesting as it contracted in the cold. The warm orange light from the cargo bay flowed out onto the snow drifts around the nearby pine trees.

“OK. Ten minutes I can do.” Hugh nodded and turned his back to Elnor. “Hop on!”

Elnor grinned and took a barefoot, running jump at the xB’s back. Hugh squeezed the Romulan’s legs against his sides and was thankful his hand re-fit was taking well.

“My _e'lev_ is much stronger than he looks!” Elnor beamed at the ladies from his new height, enjoying the piggyback. _“Very_ strong in fact. Sometimes, when we-”

“I’d, er, leave it there, Elnor.” Hugh interrupted hastily, his cheeks flushing as Picard’s eyebrows raised at the cut-off sentence.

The crew made their way from the clearing where the ship was parked (or ‘strategically abandoned’ as Agnes described the Captain’s attempt at landing) and toward the light and music coming from the lodge just visible through the trees.

By the time the crew arrived at the venue, and shrugged off their coats, La Sirena’s holos were already serenading the wedding guests. Steward was clearly having the time of his life with an entire crowd to entertain. While the band played Cris felt a swell of pride in his chest that he tried not to let show on his face.

* * *

The evening passed by in a blur. Seven caught up with familiar faces from her Voyager days, feeling less overwhelmed in the crowd with Raffi’s arm looped through her own. The xB found herself almost enjoying the small talk now that Raffi was there to smooth over her occasional misstep or diffuse any awkwardness with a well-timed quip.

The Emergency Holographic Band’s combination of 20th century Earth classics and jazz was keeping the atmosphere warm and the dance floor full. Too full in some cases, as Picard tried and failed, again, to escape Harry’s grandmother. The tiny woman had him in an almost vice like grip as they slow danced.

“Why, you should have seen my Harold,” the elderly Mrs Kim reminisced as Picard scanned the room for an escape, “oh my, he was a _fine figure of a man_ in his day, so dashing!”

“I’m sure…” the Admiral said. He caught Rios’ eye and nodded pointedly at his captor and then at the band. Rios nodded sternly in acknowledgement. 

“Harry is named for my Harold, you know?” Kim’s grandmother continued.

“I didn’t know th-”

“He swept me _right_ off my feet!” Mrs Kim interrupted “and into...well,” she giggled, “we probably shouldn't talk about such things in front of the youngsters, eh?” She nodded at a group of Starfleet officers who were _well_ into their fifties and winked conspiratorially.

Rios leaned up to the stage and whispered something in the EHH’s ear. Steward nodded and waited for the current song to come to an end.

“I’ve just had a request from my Captain, here.” Steward drawled into the mic, “and I’m certainly not about to disobey a direct order in front of _this many fine officers!”_ He gestured to a few of the more rowdy captains who cheered and raised their drinks. Steward really knew how to work a room.

The Admiral felt a flood of relief, he was saved. He smiled at Rios who smiled angelically back.

“So, grab your date,” Steward continued, “here’s a _romantic_ one for all the lovers out there!”

Cris’ face broke into a wicked, cheshire cat grin as he sarcastically gave the Admiral two thumbs up.

 _“Unbelievable.”_ Picard muttered darkly under his breath.

“Oh, _Jean-Luc!”_ Mrs Kim gasped and pulled him closer as the slow dance began.

Emmet's slow drum beat underscored the opening chords from Enoch’s piano. The kick drum felt like an easy heart beat in Raffi’s chest as she listened. The light hiss of the snare drum mingled with Ian’s muted brass notes as the music flowed out over the couples. Emil leaned against his double base, long fingers expertly plucking the strings. The deep, ponderous tones drew the band’s sound together as the EHH closed his eyes briefly, soaking in the atmosphere.

Steward loosed the microphone from its stand and wandered over to Enoch’s piano, his polished shoes tapping cleanly across the wooden floor. The Hospitality Hologram inspected his reflection idly in the reflective surface of the instrument. The holo _knew_ he looked good as he leaned casually against the piano lid and delicately touched a strand of hair back into place as he waited for Enoch’s clean glissando, the EHH’s cue to sing.

 _“Guess it's true, I'm not good at a one night stand,”_ Steward crooned, looking out across the room. Smiling as he saw his Captain tilt Agnes’ chin up into a tender kiss.

 _“But I still need love 'cause I'm just a man,”_ The EHH’s eyes drifted to Hugh as he ushered his barefoot date to the dance floor. Steward watched the scarred skin by the xB’s eyes crease in happiness as Elnor rested his hand in Hugh’s, eager to be led.

 _“These nights never seem to go to plan,”_ Steward sang as Picard and Mrs Kim spiralled slowly past the stage. Over to the edge of the dance floor the EHH spotted a young Vulcan officer approaching Soji.

“Are you content to people-watch or would you prefer to dance?” Steward could read his lips over the music. The synth’s smile and her hand finding the officer’s seemed reply enough.

Raffi smiled as Soji was led onto the dance floor, when Enoch caught her eye from the piano and nodded to the approaching xB.

Steward’s voice was pitch perfect as he sang, _“I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand?”_

Raffi turned to see Seven holding out a hand.

“May I have this dance?” The Ranger said with a smile, leading Raffi to the dance floor, past the already slowly spiralling couples in Starfleet dress uniforms.

 _“Oh, won't you stay with me?”_ Steward crooned as Seven led Raffi in their dance, her relaxed augmented hand carefully holding Raffi’s aloft. The warm candle light from the edges of the room caught against the silver sequinned surface of the xB’s clothes and the metal in her skin with equal beauty. 

_“'Cause you're all I need,”_

Raffi’s eyes fluttered closed, as Seven slid her hand over Raffi’s back. The OPS officer’s heart raced from the slow, sweeping touch; smooth fingertips gliding across her bare skin.

_“This ain’t love, it's clear to see,”_

Raffi wasn’t used to Seven leading when they danced and the xB’s confidence was making her swoon. 

_“But darling, stay with me.”_ Steward’s soft drawl flowed through the air as he continued the song.

Over Seven’s shoulder Raffi could see the distant lights of the mountain town mingling on the glass with the reflection of the candles from inside the room. The skin on Raffi’s neck prickled as she felt Seven sigh against her skin.

“Oh, won't you stay with me?” Seven sang quietly. The xB’s pitch perfect tone was Borg perfection, but the emotion that warmed her voice was tentative, fragile, and oh so _human._

“'Cause you're all I need” Seven rested her cheek against Raffi’s. The OPS officer could feel the curve of Seven’s implant against her own temple as the xB’s breathed the words close against Raffi’s skin.

“This _is_ love, it's clear to see.”

Raffi took a moment to hear the difference between the line Steward sang to the crowded room and the words murmured just for her, close to her ear.

Raffi’s mind raced, _maybe Seven got the words wrong._

 _But this is_ _Seven,_ she thought, _so probably not..._

Raffi pulled back, and looked into Seven’s sparkling eyes. Bright, icy blue but brimming with the warmest expression of love. Open, honest, hopeful. 

_“But darling, stay with me.”_ The band’s song wrapped around them. The swell of the music rose with the overwhelming tide of emotion in Raffi’s chest. She felt a need to get away from this crowd, to be alone with Seven. She glanced to the door and back to her date before lacing their fingers together and leading Seven off the dance floor.

“Raffi?” Seven said as she followed behind, weaving in and out of slow dancing officers and toward the door to the deck. As Raffi pushed the heavy door open a gentle flurry of snowflakes spiraled inwards. The OPS officers' heeled boots clicked against the cold wooden boards of the decking and Steward's voice faded to a muffled whisper as the door swung closed behind Seven. 

From the deck outside the ballroom the distant lights of the town below glowed quietly against the freshly fallen snow. Pools of warm light huddled in clusters in the cold evening beyond the tree tops. In the distance, the dark mountains held up a patchwork sky of softly ribboned snow clouds over the radiant star-scape behind them. 

_So beautiful,_ Raffi thought before turning back to face Seven as the snow gently began to fall.

 _Oh, but not as beautiful as_ _her._

Raffi smoothed her thumb against the back of Seven’s hand.

“Nice singing in there.” Raffi’s words escaped as little clouds, her hot breath dissipating into the night as she watched the slowly falling snowflakes begin to settle in Seven’s hair as the xB smiled at the compliment.

The OPS officer wrapped her arms around her lover’s waist and shivered, she couldn’t be sure if it was from the crisp evening air across her bare skin or the cool, gentle touch of the xB’s augmented hand against her back. Raffi raised a hand to trace the implant along Seven's jaw as the xB looked like she was trying to find the courage to speak.

“Raffi, I-” Seven faltered as the OPS officer ran the edge of her thumb against the contours of the starburst implant.

 _Like a snowflake?_ Raffi thought. _No, like a flower._

“Raffi, I hope I am not out of line but-“ Seven’s words slowed as she enjoyed Raffi’s lingering touch. 

Raffi traced the spreading petals of the implant. A familiar rhyme coming back to mind:

 _She loves me,_ Raffi thought, _she loves me not-_

“I feel I should be honest with you.” Seven sighed nervously and continued. “I don’t expect you to reciprocate and I don’t want you to feel obligated to reply-”

 _She loves me?_ Raffi thought, her heart almost painful when she tried to meet the xB’s gaze, though Seven’s eves were downcast, as Raffi’s hand lingered at her jawline.

_She loves me not-_

The moment stretched as Raffi traced the last line of Seven’s implant and the Ranger’s eyes lifted to meet Raffi’s own.

 _-She loves me?_ Raffi dared to think. 

Seven looked like she was about to speak and chose instead to wrap a hand around the back of Raffi’s neck and draw her into a kiss. Raffi could feel the gentle caress of snowflakes melting on her bare shoulders. Their lips still touching, Seven murmured as if it was a secret, albeit one Raffi already knew.

“I love you, Raffi.”

Raffi felt like she could hear her own heart racing as she gently pulled back to take in the sight of the woman standing before her. Seven’s cheeks flushed with emotion and the cold night air around them.

“You don’t need to return the sentiment.” Seven said quietly, running a hand against Raffi’s arm, for reassurance and for warmth.

“Honey,” Raffi’s expression was soft as her eyes darted between Seven’s, her heart still hammered in her chest. “I mean, _surely_ you can already tell?”

Raffi’s chest ached at the uncertainty in her lover’s eyes. “My pupils?” 

“Dilated.” Seven confirmed warily.

“Body temperature?” Raffi added.

“Elevated,” Seven said, as her ocular implant processed thermal data, _“comparatively so,_ given the environment.”

The OPS officer pulled Seven gently closer, taking the xB’s hand and holding it to her chest. “And how’s my heart doin’?”

“86 beats per minute.” 

“So, your best guess would be?”

Seven swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Your physical response is-”

The deck was quiet except for the muffled sounds of the bands music and gentle sound of the sequinned cloth of Seven’s outfit moving as Raffi smoothed a reassuring palm against the small of the xB’s back.

“- it would suggest-”

“Yes?” Raffi raised her eyebrows playfully.

“-that-” Seven continued cautiously.

“That I love you too.” Raffi smiled, cupping Seven’s cheek as she watched the other woman’s expression thawing, relief and happiness washing over her beautiful features.

“Of _course_ I love you, Seven.” Raffi sighed and dipped her head to take the Ranger’s lips into a gentle kiss. Smiling against Seven’s lips as the other woman’s hand eased into her hair, drawing them closer.

Raffi barely noticed the bitter cold as the two of them stood in the starlight and the gently falling snow. The warm light from inside the ballroom spilled gold under the door and against their shoes. Time seemed to melt into the sensation of softly falling snow, and lingering touches and _her._

Raffi slowed their kiss, letting her own lower lip graze across Seven’s.

“What do you say,” Raffi murmured before gently tugging Seven’s lip between her teeth, “we get outta of here?” 

Seven raised her eyebrows, clearly pleased with the suggestion before conceding, “We _should_ say goodbye to the grooms.”

“So proper!” Raffi chuckled, shivering and tucking her hands under her arms. 

“I _am_ Starfleet’s prodigal xB’” Seven replied, her hand on the door. “I would hate to ruin my _perfect_ reputation for observing social niceties.”

“You’re sense of humour is _not_ one of the reasons I fell for you.” Raffi teased, stamping her feet in the cold.

“You forget, I can _tell_ when you’re lying.” Seven smiled proudly and ducked back inside.

* * *

Seven stepped back inside as the band’s number was ending. A warm round of applause rose to meet the final notes along with an enthusiastic wolf whistle from Cris.

“Ex- excuse me,” A nervous looking Lieutenant Commander tugged his gold dress uniform straight and offered his hand to Rios. “I’m Reginald Barclay, I was w-wondering if these are _your_ holos.”

“Not _mine,”_ Cris shook the man’s hand before gesturing back to the band. “They’re my, er…”

Steward fiddled with the mic stand and pretended not to be listening.

“They’re just my... friends from work.” Rios finished and scratched the back of his head. 

Steward looked like his subroutines might decompile on the spot.

Rios smiled at the Lieutenant Commander and gestured to the stage. “Want me to introduce you?” 

“The hell are you doing back?” Tom huffed as he spotted Seven pulling on her coat, “I thought I saw Musiker drag you off the dance floor!”

“I came to thank Harry for the invitation.” Seven said, looking around for Raffi’s coat.

“Well, you could’ve at least waited another 30 minutes before ducking out!” Tom chuckled and leaned past Seven to fish the huge yellow coat from the bottom of a pile. “Now I owe Cris two strips of latinum.”

Tom pushed the pillowy coat into Seven’s arms before he threw his own arm around Seven’s shoulder in a brief hug.

“Anyway, sounds like a job for the best man!” Tom shrugged, “There’s a breakfast tomorrow, come along to that if you want. I’ll pass your thanks on to the happy couple in the meantime.”

“Now scram!” He clapped her on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to keep Musiker waiting, now would you?”

The xB smiled at her friend and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Seven? It’s nearly 2100 hours,” Tom said, as he checked a gleaming, analogue time piece on his wrist. “If you take the west path you’ll see the grav-lanterns. _Very romantic.”_

Seven raised an eyebrow quizzically in reply.

“What?” Tom scoffed, a little put on the spot by the full force of his friend's signature look. _“What?_ I was your pilot for _years,_ I don’t get to be your wingman?” 

Seven’s expression softened. She was grateful to have a friend like Tom.

“Now go get your girl, Seven.” He grinned slyly and winked before spinning on his heel and waving at the holos on stage. “Hey boys! Are you guys taking requests yet?”

Seven watched Tom disappear back into the crowd finding B’Elanna’s waiting arms, surrounded by wedding guests who were already moving in time with the holo-band’s next number. Tom led his laughing wife to the middle of the dance floor as the Emergency Holographic Band began playing _Minnie The Moocher._

Seven took a moment to look around the room, taking in the warm atmosphere filled with music and dancing and love, before smiling contentedly and as she turned to leave.

* * *

The two of them walked through the quiet evening back to the ship. Raffi, happy to be wrapped back in her big coat and even happier to be wrapped in Seven’s arms as they made their way toward La Sirena. The silence between them was comfortable and content, the only sound was the muffled crunch of their boots in the freshly fallen snow.

The OPS officer watched the grav-lanterns drift their slow, glowing path over the snow capped roofs. The gentle light caught against the edge of Seven’s implant underneath a stray blonde wave, wet from the snow melting against her cheek.

The distant wisps of the northern lights moved silently in the distance. Their gentle glow reminded Raffi of how the delicate points of light from Seven’s spine sometimes touched their bedsheets with faint radiance when she slept. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was to know that.

“The Captain’s landing skills could do with some refinement.” Seven said as they approached the clearing where La Sirena stood. Seven chuckled at the sight as an already broken tree branch the freighter had damaged on its landing finally snapped. Its load of snow sliding off with muffled _fwump._

“Typical terrible parking,” Raffi laughed as she knocked snow off the control panel and pressed the door release. “Enoch’s _not_ gonna be happy!”

Raffi’s cheeks flushed in the cold and she stamped her feet as the snow began to fall harder, the flakes clumping together and into deep drifts by the side of the ship. There was a metallic groaning sound as La Sirena’s cargo doors slid open, the gangway faltering partway down.

 _“Still_ not fixed since the Modean job!” Raffi scoffed, giving the walkway a swift kick to set it moving again, before climbing up and offering a hand to the xB. Seven nearly slipped on the smooth metal in her eagerness to follow the OPS officer.

‘Woah, hey, careful there.” Raffi laughed, steadying the xB against herself, “I gotcha,” She smiled, pulling her inside and closing the door.

Raffi leaned against the cargo bay bulkhead, hooking a thumb under the rim of her boots and tugging them off. Seven kicked off her silver boots too and tossed them by the doors. A chunk of slush slid from the heel and began melting quietly onto the floor.

The metal in Seven’s foot clicked quietly against the duritanium floor as she walked over to Raffi. She smoothed her hands over the other woman's shoulders, easing off her coat and discarding it on a crate before leading her upstairs to the upper deck.

Seven ran a hand through her hair, her blonde waves wet with melting snow. Raffi shook her head instead, sending little drops of snow-melt flying out, she giggled as Seven pulled a face. Her laugh turned into a sigh as Seven pulled her into a kiss at the top of the stairs.

Seven couldn’t tell if it was La Sirena that was warmer than usual or her as she grinned into Raffi’s kiss. She brushed a wet curl from Raffi’s eyes and kissed her again. Laughing as their teeth knocked accidentally, and then easing into a comfortable, familiar kiss. Seven knew how they’re bodies felt, close together like this, but it didn’t stop her savouring every second. Raffi pulled at the belt of Seven’s coat, fumbling as she did so, still too distracted by the xB’s kiss.

Seven pulled back and took off her coat, turning to throw it over the metal railing of the stairs.

As Seven turned back and her breath caught in her chest at the sight of Raffi; her lover’s lean frame was silhouetted against the warm, copper light of the warp core. The soft light of La Sirena’s heart was like a cathedral’s glowing rose window behind her. Seven felt the gentle flicker of data filter through her mind; the Collective’s understanding of stained glass, architectural design and religious devotion. None of it came even _close_ to what she felt as she looked at Raffi.

The elegant line of Raffi’s illuminated profile was a gently curving pen stroke from someone writing a description of perfection that didn’t get any further than _her._

Seven knew how countless different species showed emotion and suddenly none of it seemed adequate. She felt speechless. Raffi’s hand found hers, pulling her to their quarters as Seven wondered how she had managed to find someone so perfect and flawed and so _utterly_ human. 

As the door hissed closed behind them Raffi smiled knowingly as the Ranger keyed the door console onto _‘Maintenance Code C’._

“Now,” Seven purred, her gaze heavy with intent, “where were we?”

“You were telling me you loved me.” Raffi grinned and tugged Seven closer by her belt. “Oh, I could _really_ get used to that, honey.” The OPS officer sighed happily, before shyly adding, “Though honestly, it still feels a little unreal.”

“I’m sure you will adapt.” Seven teased as she gently took Raffi’s lips in a leisurely kiss.

“And in the meantime,” the xB tucked a snow-wet curl behind her lover’s ear, letting her fingers drift down her neck and under the thin shoulder strap of Raffi’s dress.

“May I offer a more _practical_ demonstration?”

* * *

Seven watched the northern lights dance silently outside the window, the distant trails of colour moving slowly as the Ranger listened to Raffi’s breathing beginning to steady. Seven smiled and curled her arm around her lover, idly tracing connections between one freckle and the next with a gentle touch across Raffi’s back. She let her eyes wander to the star chart painting on the bulkhead. The meandering Delta Quadrant path lovingly picked out in the oil paint. It all seemed so long ago now. Years spent hoping for a place to call home, desperately wanting to belong. Years on Voyager when she’d viewed star charts as simply records of where she’d been. 

But now? Now it felt like possibilities. Paths she could take. Paths _they_ could take together.

Seven thought of the time she’d wasted under Bjayzl’s thumb. The emotional scars faded but easily found amid her memories. She thought of the opera and the opulence of those final months, and the deep rooted pain that went along with them. Her tiny La Sirena quarters weren’t luxurious, but her own space and her few possessions felt like _riches_ when she considered what it all meant.

She’d never realised that life could be like this. Never dared to dream that it might.

 _I have a crew,_ Seven thought before correcting herself, _I have a family._

Finally, after all this time, it felt like things were moving forward. Seven felt hopeful. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt hopeful before, not like this at least.

 _This is home,_ she sighed. Not thinking about the ship but instead about the woman curled close against her side. Raffi’s breathing now soft against her lover's chest, her arm felt safe and comforting around Seven’s waist.

“Everything OK, babe?” Raffi asked kindly, seeing Seven’s thoughtful expression. 

“Yes, I was just,” Seven paused, “thinking about the past.”

“Good memories?” The OPS officer said, finding Seven’s hand and gently pulling it to her lips. Raffi kissed the implant across Seven’s palm, honouring skin and metal equally.

“Both good and bad,” Seven conceded as she smiled the feeling of Raffi’s loving touch, “though far more good to come, I believe.”

“Sounds like a challenge?”

“Incorrect.” Seven took a final look over the painting before turning back to Raffi.

“Oh?” The OPS officer said.

“It’s not a _challenge.”_ Seven reached to softly tilt up Raffi’s chin and kissed her; hoping the love the other woman inspired in her was evident in the gesture. The xB eased her augmented hand to cradle the back of Raffi’s head, fingers sinking gently into soft curls as she looked lovingly into those beautiful, brown eyes. 

_Her future, her Raffi._

“It’s a _promise.”_ Seven smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first story with chapters I’ve ever written and wasn’t something I thought I could do! Thanks so much to all the lovely people who commented. Your kind words of encouragement helped make this story. Whether it was a heart emoji or a 1.5k _essay,_ keyboard smashing or Literary Analysis™, I loved _every one_ and I read and re-read ‘em more times than I’d care to admit.
> 
>  **Heartfelt thanks to the lovely commenters:**  
>  Mobizo, speedtrials, ToniH, DaughterOfAthena_SisterOfArtemis, Spinifex, Thimblerig, germanAkice, MikoNeko, The_cazycat, lady_needless_litany, Borgupine, Talvenhenki, Troodster1972, JustNotMe, MW, Starfleet_Command_Unit_Bi, Pokegirl11, Melospiza_melodia, Lintila, Umpleby, Jadynof9, Arelithil, Kennel_Boy, jazzfic, cunningweaver, RachelMcAdamsApple, Astrometrics94, Annamelia and a couple of mystery guests <3  
> Thanks aswell to the amazing asteriski for making [fanart!](https://bit.ly/3asaB0C)
> 
>  **Many thanks and pancakes where possible to the wonderful (and patient) Beta team:**  
> [Lintila,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lintila/pseuds/lintila) [Spinifex,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinifex/pseuds/Spinifex) and [Annamelia,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annamelia/pseuds/Annamelia)
> 
> Many thanks to the gracious [Speedtrials](https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedtrials/pseuds/speedtrials) for returning as chief wardrobe consultant!
> 
>  **For those interested here’s what Seven and Raffi’s outfits were based on:**  
>  Seven wore [this](https://bit.ly/32cfBCX) from Alberta Feretti’s, Fall 2018 collection.  
> With [this coat](https://bit.ly/31UUftq) in science officer teal because I am a _sap._
> 
> Raffi wore [this dress](https://bit.ly/3au8Ekd) from Milly (Michelle Smith) Spring 2019 collection.  
> The role of role of Very Puffy Coat™️ was played by [this Mackage “Eliane” maxi down coat.](https://bit.ly/340NGIy)
> 
>   
> Handcuffs inspired by Spinifex’s excellent Raffi/Seven PWP fic [”Feel Good”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25192768)
> 
> I’d love to know what holoprogrammer [Felix Knightly ](https://bit.ly/346QC6f) thinks of La Sirena’s holosquad.
> 
> [McKinley Station](https://bit.ly/2E88frw) space doc and where Voyager departed from.
> 
> [Griffith Observatory,](https://bit.ly/2EdoSlx) where [Tuvok and Tom had to foil some temporal shenanigans in 1997.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27F3tR12OKI)
> 
> Bonus [Tom Paris with Sarah Silverman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Z8WJzUOy48) cos it bends my brain!
> 
> [Feed Me - Little Shop of Horrors](https://bit.ly/2CwEuAe)
> 
> [Mistress of Evil](https://bit.ly/2E3944V) as played by the Delaneys.
> 
> [Reginald Barclay](https://bit.ly/34cwK1A) meeting the holos would be _everything!_
> 
> I blame Gaudí’s [La Sagrada Familia stained glass](https://bit.ly/3kMUz6a) for making me misty eyed about [La Sirena’s warp core.](https://bit.ly/2E1wkRd)
> 
> Romulan from [here.](http://web.archive.org/web/20060927153852/http://atrek.org/Dhivael/rihan/engtorihan.html#C)  
>  _d'_ / great, grand (prefix)  
>  _ri'nanov_ / mother  
>  _aulha_ / choice, select  
>  _e'lev_ / my love, dear, darling.
> 
> Translation is from the ever dubious Google Translate. If you’re a native Spanish speaker and I’ve goofed - let me know and I’m happy to tweak :)  
>  _Pendejo_ / stupid  
>  _Necesito conseguir más phasers_ / I need to get more phasers  
>  _Ridícula_ / Ridiculous
> 
> **The featured songs in this chapter were:**  
> [Boys Are Back In Town by Thin Lizzy](https://bit.ly/3fZsrcl)  
> [Stay With Me "Old Hollywood" Style Sam Smith Cover ft. Cristina Gatti](https://bit.ly/2FlJdFV)
> 
> Fic title from [Overlap by Ani Difranco.](https://bit.ly/3kUHg3Q)  
>  _“I search your profile / For a translation / I study the conversation / Like a map / 'cause I know there is strength / In the differences between us / And I know there is comfort / Where we overlap.”_
> 
> Thank you so much for reading <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Overlap by Regionalpancake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464367) by [new fanfiction radio (Spinifex)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinifex/pseuds/new%20fanfiction%20radio)




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